Flatline
by alindy
Summary: Hermione Granger has a gift, one she can't return and one she can't get rid of. She doesn't want it: not now, not after all that's happened, not after Fred's death, and especially not with the look that's always in George's eyes...
1. Prologue

**It's Posted! If you read Boggart, don't expect this to be posted as quickly. Definitely not going to happen...**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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><p>I wish I could say that this story doesn't start with a death, specifically Fred Weasley's death. I wish I could say there was some kind of twist of fate that saved him, some kind of old magic that was evoked and gave him back his life; maybe the use of a time turner, or even some kind of deal with the devil to stop his untimely death.<p>

At the end of the day however, wishes, sadly, are still wishes the majority of the time.

So as much as I wish I could prevent him from kicking the bucket, I can't, and the end of his story, is the beginning of ours.

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><p>The only word most of the people in the room could come up with to describe the screams was animalistic. It had to be some kind of primal urge that couldn't be controlled, and how could you really blame here, it was the loss of a son.<p>

The screams only made it worse, if you weren't crying or tearing up at the sound of the pure anguish in those screams than you had to be an unfeeling robot. Hermione agreed completely and felt sudden rage fill up her body as she looked over to see Draco Malfoy, looking on emotionless. It wasn't like he was laughing or smirking, he just wasn't showing any feelings in general, and it bothered her to no end. The least he could do was look a little understanding.

She ignored him though, wiped her own tears away, even if it was a futile effort, and walked over to George. Most of the Weasley family was circled around Fred's dead body, pulling him or squeezing his hand, hoping for a reaction or response that they all knew would never come.

George wasn't though; he stood farther back looking on with the most pained expression Hermione had ever seen, almost as if it just hurt to breath. She stood next to him, not holding his hand or hugging him, just stood close to him in a friendly gesture. He inched closer to her, still not making contact, but just to feel the warmth that radiated off of her. His whole body felt like an unfeeling block of ice that would snap any minute and he wanted to get closer to the warmth and feeling that always emitted from the endearing Hermione Granger.

Hermione looked around nervously, not wanting to see what she knew to be inevitable. All those dead bodies…all those dead people. She knew it had to have happened, having those people die, it's a consequence of war and these people served their purpose…but that sounded harsh and heartless and she would not allow herself to say such a thing, not even in her head.

They weren't just _people,_ they weren't just a number added to the death count, and they weren't just some weapon used to get their means. No, they were human beings: brothers, mothers, aunts, and children. Even if Hermione didn't personally know them, the thought of the family left behind, doing the same thing the Weasley's and Harry were doing now was unbearable. It sent her mind in a tizzy and she suddenly needed to get out of the newly claustrophobic room.


	2. Chapter of Explanations

**Ok, honestly, I almost sort this 'chapter' as a second prologue because it doesn't really feel...well...part of the story as a whole but completely necessary for the plot. I promise I'll post the next chapter (something that's actually kind of...well..._interesting)_ soon. In the mean time, hopefully reading this chapter isn't unbearable. (:**

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><p>Hermione always considered this part of her life unimportant, though it may actually be the most important moment of it all. She wouldn't even contemplate such a statement, putting things like Voldemort's defeat and getting her honorary diploma ahead of it. Yes, most important could be argued, but it was definitely the event that affected the rest of her life the most.<p>

We're talking about Hermione Granger's death.

Clearly, as shown above, it gets pretty confusing. Hermione Granger isn't dead, that's impossible. She's living and breathing and has been going to more funerals than she can count on one hand in the last few weeks. True, she is alive currently, but we're talking about her first death: the one she came back from.

It was between her third and fourth year at Hogwarts. It was the summer, though not a particularly warm one, and she was relaxing at her parents' home and catching up with her old friends. Her body was still worn out from the extreme use of a time turner during third year, but she only worked harder for the things she wanted to complete and accepted the compliments of how much older she looked with a new vigor and a funny smile.

The death itself took place on a Sunday, her dad had off work and he was driving her to the convenience store for some more shampoo and some milk for their cereal breakfasts. Neither Mr. Granger nor Hermione even saw the truck coming, but it slammed into the side full force, turning the car into just a strange-shaped lump of metal.

The side that was hit the strongest was Hermione's side.

The discrepancies most often start here. Some of the medical staff swore that after one Ms. Hermione Granger was cut out of the car, she was already dead, and they were taking her back to the hospital to officially call the time of death. Others say that she was still breathing heavily and didn't officially die until she was on the operating table later, and a few say they that she was as close to death as you can be and still be considered living when they got her out of the once car.

The point of the matter is, however, that at some point during this event Hermione was dead, not knocking on death's door or barely holding on: dead. She was as dead as dead can be when she sprung up screaming after three minutes and 7 seconds of death. Surgery was started and she came back with a large scar on her waist from where the biggest impact was and 6 staples in the back of her head. Not to forget the multiple bruises and the broken wrist.

She recovered quickly and made excuses so she could go to the burrow that summer. After hours of convincing and pleading she was allowed to go, and the bruises she still had she concealed with a few well-placed charms once she was at the burrow, that way her magic wouldn't be detected.

Hermione didn't even realize anything was wrong with her until the end of her fourth year. Up until then she had seen herself as just a very lucky young girl who got out of a car crash. Getting out of a car crash was pie compared to the other scraps she had gotten herself out of already in her short life.

As soon as she saw Cedric Diggory's ghost, however, she realized something was wrong. It wouldn't have scared her that much if it wasn't for the fact that she seemed to be the only one able to see him. She didn't even realize that he was dead at first, she saw a standing Cedric and didn't understand what all of the loud wails were from. In her mind Cedric was clearly alive and there was no reason to be crying, they were fine, but then she looked over and saw Cedric's dead body and wondered when exactly he had gotten a twin.

She didn't understand it at first, but he talked to her later after he noticed she could actually see him walking around. He told her about the maze, the terrifying act of seeing Voldemort, and how he was really going to miss Cho: how he was mad that his last words to her had been, "I'll be fine."

An old broken door appeared and he walked through after a quick goodbye and a muttered, "Kick Voldemort's ass Hermione." She thought she had maybe imagined the entire thing until she saw another dead person, and then another. Hermione had never met a dead person she hadn't known, and she didn't know if that was coincidence or not.

The important part is, however, that Hermione Granger saw dead people.

So, as she looked at the dark bags under her eyes and the worn black dress she wore, she couldn't help wishing that she really didn't have to go to this funeral: it was going to be worse than the others. In the past weeks she'd helped more people move on than she even thought she knew, and she had gotten through it just the way she had gotten through the first one: one dead person at a time.

This was different, though, because this was one of the hard ones to help move on: it wasn't a fellow prefect or one time acquaintance, though those proved challenging because of the tragedy, they weren't people she knew well, and the impact wasn't as strong.

She had to help Fred move on today.

She was going to Fred's funeral, and she really wasn't sure she could stand to see that flash of red hair and mischievous smile: both in the casket and the ghost. She knew she would be able to get through it, though, because she had to be able to get through it. So she pushed back her shoulders, put some extra tissues in her bag, and walked out of the door with a silent mantra playing over and over again in her head as she quickly apparated away.

_One dead person at a time._


	3. Chapter of Funerals

**This isn't my favorite chapter out of what I have currently written, but I do like that we're finally getting into the story. Your thoughts are always appreciated (:**

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><p>After apparating into the burrow, Hermione was surprised by how many people were rushing around. Even though the funeral was scheduled to start in a short five minutes, only around half the chairs were filled in the backyard, though they were filling up fast. She looked around and noticed that the rubbish bin was already overflowing with used tissues. Hermione concluded that many had already started thinking about the redhead in the coffin.<p>

"Five minutes!" she yelled up the stairwell, knowing they just needed a reminder. Having to plan and attend as many funerals as they had been doing was difficult and could get quite overwhelming.

Even more chaos broke out behind Hermione as she exited towards the backyard and many others followed suit. By the time the funeral was ready to begin, all the chairs were filled and some people were even standing around in the back.

"Today we are here to celebrate the life of a very…" the conductor of the ceremony began. Hermione's mind wandered as he said the same speech she had heard definitely more than once. She wondered if the wizarding world _had_ another person who conducted funerals, because she was certain that this was the same man at every single one. He also didn't prepare very well, she concluded, because he'd said almost the same exact speech at every funeral she had attended.

"Now we welcome up George, the twin of the deceased to give a speech."

George walked up to the podium slowly with a clear slump in his walk. He looked tired and Hermione was surprised to see that he was clean-shaven. She suspected that one of the other Weasley's had helped him with that.

"Fr- Fred," George cleared his throat, "is- was- my twin. He deserves some speech about the millions of incredible accomplishments he has, but the fact of the matter is…there aren't millions. Fred died too early, it wasn't fair, I mis-" George chocked out, trying to control himself and looked down at the podium as he tried to collect himself.

"Somebody help him!" screamed a voice from the back that sounded too familiar. Hermione noticed that no one else seemed affected by the voice and turned around to see who it was: Fred. He was in the back leaning against that tree, looking almost as distraught as George did. Hermione had seen that look too many times before and it triggered something inside of her.

Hermione walked up to the podium and stood beside George. She ignored the countless strange looks she was receiving and grabbed his hand. George looked up from the podium and down at her with his slightly tear-stained eyes and she returned the look just as much.

She nodded slightly with a look that said something along the lines of, "I'm here for you, please finish this, you have to." George set down the note card he had scrawled a few sentences on and looked up at the rest of the people at the funeral.

"Fred and I had our whole futures planned, well, as much as Fred and I could plan," George explained, getting a few tearful chuckles from the audience. "We would get married within weeks of each other and live in the same neighborhood. Our children would be born on the same day and hang out every day after that. There'd be cookouts and family vacations. We'd make them go to Quidditch games right from birth and cheer for the same team. They'd be so close they might as well be twins. Fred and I would work together forever. Things didn't go the way they should, though, and at least he got the privilege to die for a great cause. He should be remembered for that, but he should also be remembered for the strange habits and the bad things, because he was a human being too. He made you laugh and he made you pissed off at him, but mostly he made you love him. I still love him and will always love him. I miss him, and, wow, if he were here right now he'd _never_ stop making fun of me for sounding like such a pansy. Just…if you can remember him for anything…remember him for his happiness, his creativity, and how he made you laugh your _arse_ off."

Claps echoed around the backyard. George and Hermione stepped away from the podium and went back to their seats briskly. The funeral finished quickly after that and almost everyone disappeared in a matter of minutes after giving the family their condolences and seeing a quick glimpse of Fred in the casket. Soon it was down to almost just the immediate family and not even that. Ginny and Harry had disappeared somewhere and no one knew where Bill was either. Charlie, Percy, Ron, Molly, and Arthur were all about to go inside before making sure Hermione was ok.

"I'm fine, I just need to go find my sunglasses," Hermione responded.

"Ok, well if you need help, let us know," Charlie offered kindly with a squeeze to the shoulder before they all left her alone. Hermione walked to the last aisle of chairs and sat down next to Fred, trying to be quiet so that she didn't alert George, who was still standing over the casket.

"Shouldn't you have moved on by now?" Hermione spoke forcefully as she looked down at her knees. She fiddled with the seam of her dress that was starting to fall apart from how many times she had worn it recently.

"I haven't seen a door popping up anywhere, have you? Besides, why would I move on when I can haunt you forever," he joked, speaking in a voice she guessed was meant to sound like a ghost.

"How do you even know about the door?" Hermione questioned, still not picking up her eyes from her legs.

"I got to talk to some of those who haven't quite moved on yet who had heard about it."

"Who exactly?" Hermione asked with a shrug of her shoulders.

"That Creevey boy and the Slytherin seeker that was replaced by Malfoy…uh- Higgs maybe? Not sure. I haven't seen much of anyone, actually."

"Colin Creevey and Terence Higgs. I helped them both move on a week and a half ago…which means you've been loitering about for a while," Hermione explained.

"Yea, whatever, could you please look at me? I think your legs are lovely and all but I'd appreciate your face to be looking at _my_ handsome face, thank you very much," Fred teased.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized, picking her head up slowly and looking at him fully on and up close for the first time. He looked well. Fred was still in the same clothes he had been wearing when he died, but he looked awake and alive. There wasn't a spot of blood or dust on him and his hair looked like the normal crazy mess it was and not bogged down with dirt like it had been during the battle.

"No reason to be sorry, many of the ladies get nervous in front of such an attractive lad, very reasonable of you. Good taste," he smiled.

"Fred, don't…please just…don't," Hermione pleaded as she moved her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged.

"What did I do? Lighten up will you? Here, have a canary cream and-"

"Stop it! Stop acting like everything is perfectly normal, it isn't Fred! You're dead…you're dead and it's sad. I don't want you to be dead and you're sitting in front of me all nonchalant about it and offering me a canary cream like it's just some normal day. Which, by the way, how the hell do you even _have_ a canary cream? You're _dead. _I just attended your funeral and I'm a little upset so I'm sorry that I'm not joking around with a _dead_ person," Hermione ranted furiously.

"Hermione, I'm- I'm sorry, all right? It's just…I don't want to be dead either, but here I am…dead and watching my twin brother in so much pain and I can't even tell him it's all right. You know I'm not good at being serious and…stuff. Oh, and I had canary creams in my pocket when I died," Fred responded.

"It's fine, I'm sorry I became all cranky Hermione and- wait! You had canary creams in your pocket when you died? Why? You were in a _battle._ You are one interesting creature Fred Weasley. Ok, so this is how it goes. There's usually something to this moving on thing, sometimes there's something you have to…" Hermione lectured, turning towards him and gesturing largely with your hands.

"I'm not moving on," Fred cut in with a serious expression.

"What? You have to," Hermione exclaimed angrily.

"Let me rephrase that: yet, I'm not moving on _yet_. I will eventually, I just need to make sure George gets better first," he explained.

"I don't want to be the pessimistic one here, but what if he never moves on?" Hermione said.

"He will, he's got a good girl by his side to help him through it," Fred shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.

"I hate to break it to you, but Angelina's all, 'Lee, you're so amazing,' and 'Lee, let me cry on your shoulder'. I wouldn't be surprised if they're married soon with the looks they give each other," Hermione countered.

"I was talking about you, Hermione."

"Me? I- I…" she trailed off unsure. Hermione Granger liked George, sure. He was incredibly innovative and a fun guy to talk to and discuss things with, not to forget that he could play a fantastic prank when he was up to it. _Her_ being the one to help _him_ through it, though? Where in the world had Fred gotten that idea? Of course she would help him, but 'a good girl by his side'? She was confused to say the least and didn't understand what he was implying with his statement. Did he think something was going on between the two? That's ludicrous, they were merely friends and surely Fred of all people would know if George was in a relationship with someone. Hermione and George were just friends, good friends, and that was that.

"You're Hermione Granger, you would have helped him out whether I had suggested it or not. He's lucky too, with such a pretty bird by his side and all…" Fred smirked slightly.

"If you aren't moving on than I guess that means you're going to be around for a while, and I want to make it perfectly clear that I will not put up with your harmless flirting. It hurts and I don't really appreciate being courted by a dead man," she claimed as she pointed her finger at him.

"Ok, ok," he laughed and put his hands up in surrender. "No flirting, just help him. Please? You don't understand how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer like this," Fred requested.

"You're right, I would have done it either way. I do know, by the way, I've known for a lot longer than you would think. I've watched Harry suffer, and I've suffered, and I watch people like Amos Diggory suffer and it's hard. He's got a friend to go through this with," Hermione told him.

"Thank you…and, if you don't mind me asking, well, who am I kidding? I would have asked anyway…how are you capable of seeing dead people?" Fred asked harmlessly.

Hermione thought about how to phrase it and just as she opened her mouth to reply, George popped up out of nowhere by her side. He looked down at her and held out his hand to help her up. "Who were you talking to?"

"It's whom, not who, and uh- no one…I wasn't talking to anyone," she smiled.

"Very nice Granger, I am most definitely someone," Fred spoke in an offended tone before disappearing with a large whoosh.

"Yea…no one," Hermione repeated quietly to herself before turning forward and walking back to the burrow with George.


	4. Chapter of Excitement

**Since I wrote this a while ago, I don't really feel that it's up to my current writing standards, but I didn't want to take all the time to rewrite it because then it could be a while before you all get to read it. So, sorry if you don't like the crap writing, but I swear it gets better next.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Hermione sprang up from her bed and caught her breath slowly. It had been one of those nightmares, the ones she couldn't remember a thing about once she woke up: just the feeling of being scared. Taking in her surroundings, she noticed Ginny was lying over in her bed snoring loudly. It was curious, Hermione pondered; because Ginny hadn't been in the room when she had finally fell asleep the night before. She wondered when exactly she had come in.<p>

Hermione pulled on a clean shirt and pulled her hair up into a messy clump on the top of her head. She made sure to be quiet before exiting the room and turning around to lightly close the door behind her. The stairs creaked softly underneath her feet as she walked down toward the kitchen. Chatter was coming from the dining table that sounded like Weasley men, but Hermione steered herself into the kitchen to see what Mrs. Weasley was doing instead.

"Why so chipper this morning?" Hermione queried upon seeing Mrs. Weasley whistling and dancing around while cooking.

"Why not be? Oh, could you cut those potatoes for me dear? Thank you. No more funerals!" she exclaimed happily while cutting some bread.

"No more funerals?" Hermione responded surprised. There had been so many funerals, too many for her to remember them all, and the fact that it seemed they had finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, surprised her more than she could say. Finally she would be able to get rid of, or at least hide in the back of her closet (she couldn't really afford to throw out clothes as of late) that blasted black dress.

"Correct dear," Mrs. Weasley answered with a smile on her face. She got a somewhat blank look on her face and stopped her motion for a second before shaking her head and coming back to. "Oh, you go chat with Charlie and George out there, I have this. No objections! Go!"

Mrs. Weasley shooed Hermione out of the kitchen and she reluctantly walked to the dining table. It wasn't that Hermione didn't like Charlie or George, quite the opposite actually, she just wasn't really in the mood to chat up about anything having to do with the war, which was virtually impossible. She walked in despite her hesitation and sat across from the chatting pair.

"So, what's the topic of discussion this morning with you two?" Hermione asked during the second of quiet that she had created when she entered.

"I was just discussing the shop," George replied unsurely.

"What about the store?" Hermione prompted as she took a bite of toast that had just been placed on the table.

"There's a lot of construction that has to be worked on in the lower shop. It was really beat up from some snatchers and a death eater. With the shop closed for so long it's going to be hard to reopen on the funds George currently has, but we think he can do it. The major concern right now is who to get to work," Charlie explained when George didn't speak up.

"Verity said," Charlie continued, "she couldn't work for George anymore because she's a newlywed, with child, and needs a steady paycheck from the start, which George can't guarantee."

Hermione stared at the two of them who had continued talking amongst themselves, Charlie doing most of the conversing in actuality, when she had only nodded in response. She was honestly surprised that George was trying to open back up the shop so soon, but she guessed that it was better than sitting around and drinking, which he had taken to doing. He had confessed to her, in a moment of drunkenness, that drinking only made his pain worse and his nightmares more vivid. He had proclaimed he couldn't do it any longer and that had been the end of a drunk George. Now, she figured, he was trying to channel his energy into something productive that wouldn't give him too much time to think about Fred.

"I'll do it," Hermione cut in to their conversation. Charlie and George turned towards her, Charlie with a raised eyebrow and George with a look she really couldn't describe.

"Do what?" George questioned, though she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"I'll work in the shop with you. I don't have a job; I haven't even got my N.E.W.T.s. I'm sure the ministry would offer me a position, but I don't really fancy working for them. If you let me stay in the flat above the shop I'll be ok without completely normal pay, I don't need much, and that way we can work longer too. I mean, don't feel obligated to hire me or anything, I'm not much fun and have never been a prankster, but I think-"

"Hold on," Charlie stopped her with a motion of his hand, "that might actually be perfect. She could help you with your accounting issues, too."

"I could," Hermione affirmed for him.

George looked at her skeptically. This wasn't just a small job; it was going to be big and hard. It also couldn't be forgotten that it was one of the only things that still held some of Fred's pure essence, and George couldn't stand to let that slip through his fingers. He thought about the benefits: she would definitely be careful, she was smart, flawless with details, and wouldn't be hard to work with. Hermione was good at Potions, a skill he sometimes lacked, and he was sure with a little training she could be quite the prankster.

"Yea," he croaked out before clearing his throat. "I mean, yes. I think that would work. Welcome to the team," George answered as he extended his hand out to her, which she took. She was slightly disappointed with his response, which was lackluster and dull. Hermione didn't know what she had been expecting: a party? Cheers and large grins?

"We should start on Monday with the repainting of the store, all the broken shelves are being taken out this weekend," George nodded.

"Very good, what time?" Hermione replied.

"Eight, and we can talk about the flat then too," George supplied before giving a goodbye to Charlie, taking a piece of toast, and exiting the kitchen.

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><p>She didn't know why she was so nervous to start, it was only George, but as she stood in front of the door to his shop, she couldn't help but admit that she was. Hermione didn't know what she had gotten herself into; she still wasn't quite sure why she had volunteered herself in the first place. It had been a very spontaneous thing to do from a not very spontaneous person.<p>

Ignoring her slight anxiousness she pushed through the door and walked into the open shop. Hermione had forgotten how large this place truly was, especially when there weren't many shelves or bodies inside it. It was no lie that the shop wasn't in top condition and it suddenly dawned on her how much work they really were going to have to do.

"George?" Hermione called through the shop. "Oh there you are- Fred!"

Hermione looked straight at him and glared openly.

"Fred, what are you doing here?" she hissed as she looked around to make sure no one was close by.

"I said I was going to watch George, remember?" he answered with a 'duh' kind of tone in his voice.

"Yea, I didn't know that meant whenever I was around! Go away!" Hermione pressured with a forced calm.

"Calm down, Granger, I jus-"

"Hermione?" George said as he peered around the only shelf in the room and looked at her. "Glad- you- uh- made it and, well you work here now and all so I guess I shouldn't really make it sound like you're here just to visit and all, but-"

"George, shut up," Hermione smiled slightly. It felt good, to smile, Hermione realized. She hadn't felt like she'd really done it for quite some time, not that her smile as of right now was all that good either, but even this small step towards progress was an enjoyable one.

"I wouldn't talk to your new boss that way," George joked and for a second Hermione thought she saw a glimpse of the old George, the one who hadn't lost their twin and was possibly spiraling towards depression. He had looked carefree, almost, and had that smile that wasn't quite a smile because it seemed to be a mixture of a smirk and a smile. Before she could comment on it, or even get a better look at it, it was gone in a flash and she questioned if it had even been there in the first place or if she had just imagined it.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat and looked at her. "What I said to you the other day was wrong: we can't start painting today, we actually have to cover up some holes with plaster from some of the attacks the store had. You up for that?"

"Of course I am, boss," she stated with a nod, slightly offended that he thought she was going to just walk away because it was a little more difficult.

"Of course I am, boss," Fred mimicked in a voice that was way too high and airy to be hers.

Hermione sent a steely glare in his direction before turning back to George and listening to what she would have to do. He directed her to start on the opposite side of the room so that at the end they would have worked their way back towards each other. George disappeared after giving Hermione her supplies and explaining exactly how to do it. She tried to not be offended at the fact that he clearly wanted to get away from her as quick as possible.

"Don't be offended, he's just upset," Fred explained to her from his location on the floor where he was lying on his back.

"I get it, he clearly doesn't want me working for him and doesn't want me around, it's all right. You guys didn't want me anywhere near you during Hogwarts, why would I think that would change?" Hermione responded logically, honestly meaning the words she spoke.

"Hold on, _we_ didn't want _you_ anywhere near _us_? You clearly hated us and all the pranks we pulled," Fred defended.

"I've told you on a few occasions that I think many of those pranks are quite ingenuous, you know that! You're the one who called me a bookworm that wouldn't know what to do with a naked wizard even if there were a manual in front of her," Hermione countered.

"That's not fair, I was really upset that day: you gave me detention with Snape, Lee was making fun of me for being so frightened, and Angie had told me we needed to take a break. Don't forget I apologized two hours later," he retorted.

"Doesn't matter, it still hurt," she mumbled to herself.

"Hermione Granger? Hurt? _You're_ the ball buster," Fred gasped.

"Just because I didn't get visibly upset in front of you didn't mean that it didn't hurt," she hissed before turning back to her work.

"Hermione? Could you come help me?" George yelled.

"Yes, coming," she answered before giving Fred a glare that clearly said, 'don't follow'.

"What can I do for you?" Hermione questioned.

"I just need you to hold these for me as I climb up the ladder and then if you could hold the ladder that would be helpful."

"Course," she said as she held out her hands to take his things.

"While I have your attention, I wanted to discuss the flat," Hermione called up to George.

"Oh, yea," he stated, taking back his things from Hermione who was now holding the legs of the ladder. "There's a room you can have, it was a guest room that we didn't really use, Fre- Fred and I preferred to stay in the same room. Feel free to personalize the room whatever way you want to, I don't really care."

George spoke in a way Hermione was having a hard time getting accustomed to. It was as if he wanted to talk as emotionless as possible so that he could save all of his emotion on himself in his head to become depressed and self-pitying. He seemed to be almost trying to punish himself, for what Hermione had no idea. George was clearly in pain whenever he was left alone with his thoughts, and he seemed to be trying to make sure he was alone with them as much as possible.

They worked together for a bit longer before going back to their separate corners. Upon arriving back to her original location Hermione found herself to be alone again. She was relieved to be able to get her work done in silence again and not be pestered by a dead man. On the other hand, though, she felt almost saddened by the prospect of not getting to bicker back and forth with him. Hermione felt sad and angry with this: she didn't want to get attached to Fred more than she already was, as stated: he was dead.

Hermione thought over the best ways to get Fred out of her life before it killed her as well, figuratively of course. She could ignore him, but she knew that wouldn't last more than a few minutes before she exploded. Asking him to just go away and not talk with her was another option, but Fred was stubborn and would only want to talk with her more after that. The only other option, and the best one, Hermione concluded, would be to just try to help Fred get moved on as quickly as possible.

Before she knew it, after a quick lunch break and more hours of hard work, they had finally completed the entire room.

"You can go now if you want Hermione. Go get ready for dinner at the Burrow and what not and we can move all of your stuff here after dinner if you want," George suggested.

"That sounds good, the sooner the better," she agreed. Hermione gave him a small wave as a goodbye before aparating out of the shop.

She popped into the backyard and walked through the back door of the Burrow. No one was in sight so Hermione walked straight up to her shared room with Ginny and went to shower quick before dinner. She made sure all of her things, not that she had many, were packed up and ready to go for after dinner.

The familiar call of dinner soon followed and the sound of loud Weasley footsteps were heard on the stairs. Hermione followed soon after and sat down at the dining table next to Percy and Ginny where she anxiously awaited the end of dinner.

Just like earlier when she was about to enter the shop, she was frightened of what lied ahead, but she was also, well…somewhat excited.

There was only so much hovering from Mrs. Weasley you could take.


	5. Chapter of Jumps

**From now on I think I'm going to try to update on Wednesdays and Saturdays...possibly. Depends on how much I'll get written and proofread and all that boring writer stuff (: All the chapters from now on don't get any shorter than this I believe...just letting y'all know.**

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><p>Hermione looked up from her half-eaten piece of pie at George. He must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up at her as well and motioned his head towards the door for a second. She understood what he was trying to say and nodded in return.<p>

"Well, George and I have to move all of my possessions over to the flat, so we're going to have to get going," Hermione supplied helpfully.

"Are you sure you two have to go? You could always stay a little longer and go later. Hermione, are you sure you want to live there? I'm not kicking you out or anything," Mrs. Weasley rambled, standing up from her spot at the table and starting to walk towards them.

"No, we really have to get going Mrs. Weasley, but we'll see you very soon," Hermione answered quickly, pulling George out of the room before she could make her way fully towards the two of them. She really didn't want to deal with Mrs. Weasley's coddling right now.

"Thanks," George told her as they walked up the stairs.

"For getting us out of dinner? It was your suggestion," she responded.

"Yea, its just…there's only so much you can take, you know? There's so much noise everywhere, I honestly don't think I've ever had a moment of silence my entire life."

"You know, George, they are your family. They only mean for the best, they just don't know how to react around you," she informed him as she shrunk her bags and put them into her pockets.

"I suppose so, ready to go?" George queried.

Hermione nodded in response and he grabbed her hand in his before aparating away. She marveled at how his hands were easy to hold and not like Ron's, which had always felt awkward when they had tried to hold hands. Hermione wondered if maybe it had to do with the person more than the hands themselves.

He walked down the hallway and motioned for her to follow, which she did. They walked to the end of the hallway and opened the last door on the left. She walked in and looked around the room. It wasn't extremely large, not that she expected it to be, but it was a room of her own that she didn't have to share with anyone else. The walls were a light blue color and the ceiling was a bright orange, which she chuckled at lightly.

_That's definitely a Fred move, _Hermione decided.

Hermione set down her bags and heard George walk out of the door behind her. She figured she could put her things away later and walked into the living room where George was standing.

"Let's try it," Hermione stated.

"Try what?" George replied back, still looking at the notes in his hands he had been mumbling at previously.

"This silence thing, I can do that. Just stand there, put down your notes, and don't say a single thing," Hermione spoke with a shrug of her shoulders.

George looked at her strangely but followed her instructions and put down his notes. They stared at each other while not talking and George got a slight smile on his face while Hermione beamed back in response.

All of a sudden, Hermione started dancing alone, which made George look at her strangely and smile larger. He grabbed a piece of paper and a quill and wrote something down.

_What are you doing?_ George wrote.

_Dancing, haven't you ever wanted to dance when there was no music? _Hermione stopped dancing and wrote back for him with a look like it was one of the most obvious things in the world. George shook his head at her but set the paper and quill down and started dancing slightly. She smiled even larger and danced back enthusiastically. Seeing Hermione dance so enthusiastically back made him get crazier and the pair of them were both erupting in laughs that they were trying to cover up to maintain the silence.

"What the hell are you wackos doing?" Fred busted in through a wall and questioned loudly, startling Hermione. She yelped and jumped back, making her slip slightly and end up on the floor.

"Are you ok?" George moved over to her and kneeled next to her.

"Yea, I just thought I saw somet- never mind. I'm going to go unpack," she said bashfully before shuffling back to her room and not making eye contact.

George looked after her perplexed. It was probably because he had reminded her of Fred, he decided. He got sullen and slightly angry by her attitude and at himself for looking so much like him. Why did he have to be a twin? Why did he have to see him every time he looked at a mirror? He was dead, but George felt like Fred was following him like a ghost.

Hermione went into her room and paced while trying to recollect her breath. Hadn't she told Fred not to do that? George and her were having a good moment and Fred just had to ruin it! George had actually looked happy for the first time Hermione had truly seen and then Fred walked in and scared the living daylights out of her. George probably thought she was some bizarre, abnormal girl who danced in the quiet and then screamed for no good reason…gr.

"Didn't know I could get that kind of reaction out of you, that was fun," Fred stated as he walked through her door.

"Well I'm glad my startled state amused you. Now go," she sarcastically responded.

"Why would I go when I so _enjoy_ your company?" Fred went and flopped on her bed and lay down.

"I've told you before, Fred, I don't appreciate this," Hermione said, motioning her hands between them. "You here flirting and bickering and making fun of me, it isn't normal, you should know that. My ability…it isn't normal. I shouldn't see dead people and I shouldn't see you. All of the things your family feels right now, sadness, the missing, and loneliness, I'm going to feel all those things as soon as you're gone and it's going to be worse."

"How can you see me?" Fred asked, ignoring everything else she had said.

"I died," she shrugged her shoulders and unpacked her clothes into the dresser that was against the far wall.

"So you're…what? A zombie, vampire, inferius? Right?"

"Wrong, I'm just as alive as you or-actually, you're dead, bad example," Hermione said, not noticing Fred's flinch at the word dead. "The point is, I have a beating heart and not a hankering for human flesh or blood, I'm human. I just came back to life."

"How'd you die?"

"Car crash."

"How long have you been able to see dead people?"

"It happened between third and fourth year, so…since then."

"So that means you've seen-"

"A lot of people," Hermione cut in as she lugged her bag to hide it in the back of the closet.

"Cedric?" Fred questioned back.

"Yea, I still visit his father who's in St. Mungo's every six months or so by request of him," she shrugged, sliding the closet door closed and going to sit next to Fred on the bed.

"Wait! Amos Diggory? He's in St. Mungo's?" Fred questioned in surprise.

"Yea, fourth floor with the mentally altered because they weren't quite sure where to put him. He had some kind of major depressive disorder or something and started going loony. He tries to convince himself that Cedric's still alive. The healers say it's because he's so depressed his mind creates reasons for him to want to live or something like that, I don't quite remember."

"Doesn't he have anyone else? Why is he so depressed?"

"He lost his son, Fred. His wife had died a year or so earlier and they had no other kids. His parents were gone and he was an only child. It was why he was so absorbed and obsessive with everything Cedric ever did," Hermione answered.

"Wow, I feel bad for the bloke," Fred said.

"Yea," Hermione sighed.

"So you've seen everyone?"

"Everyone that I know," she answered.

"Sirius?"

"Yes. He didn't stay long, wanted to move on to be with James. Told me to watch over Harry."

"Hedwig?" Fred joked.

"Actually, yes," she nodded.

"Ok, Mad-Eye?"

"Yea."

"Dobby?"

"Yup."

"Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yea, I hope he went to hell, the bastard. I wish I could have punched him," Hermione clenched her fists angrily.

"Wait, so if you had to see bad people, that means you had to see Bellatrix?"

"I don't even want to talk about it," Hermione groaned angrily as she rubbed her forehead.

"So, all of them? Tonks? Remus? Crabbe? Colin? Davies? Par-"

"You can shut up now, I think we've established that I see all dead people I knew," she cut him off.

A knock on the door interrupted the now somewhat heated conversation. Hermione responded with a, "Come in", and George peeked his head in.

"I'm going to be down in the workroom for a little while before going to bed, just wanted to let you know," he told her as quickly as possible before exiting again without waiting for a response.

"He looks upset, I'm going to go down and watch him for a bit," Fred mumbled as he stood up and began walking towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Hermione called after him.

"Excuse me?" Fred turned around.

"I'm sorry you died," she said as she tried to push back the burning behind her eyes that meant tears were coming. "You're trying to be all nice to the ones left behind that are sad, especially George, and I am too. I'm completely ignoring the fact that you're dead, and I'm really sorry about that."

"Thanks," he nodded after a moment of silence and walked out of the door too.

Hermione lay in her bed and stared at the obnoxious ceiling. She really should change that color if she ever wanted to sleep soundly, but she knew George would probably kill her. She'd probably kill herself after doing it. It was something Fred did, one of the easiest things to see he left behind, and she wasn't going to ruin that for anything. Even if it did mean she'd probably fall asleep easier.

A creak in the hallway made Hermione snap out of her thoughts and look towards the door. The handle was shaking slightly and then the door opened and she saw George standing there awkwardly. He didn't say anything, but Hermione could see it easily in his eyes. It was a look she understood, one she needed no explanation for. She lifted her bed sheet and patted a spot for him.

George walked over unsure, but sat down and then laid down surely. He turned to look at her and she looked back at him.

"I've never slept alone before," he whispered.

Hermione nodded in understanding and continued to look at him. "You can stay as long as you want."

"I tried, you know," he continued the quietness, "being who they expected me to be. Trying to be happy and upbeat George, but the expressions I got were too hard and it was too painful to act that way."

"I know," Hermione breathed quietly, "I know."

Hermione grabbed his hand and together they fell asleep.


	6. Chapter of Work

Hermione woke up to whistling and a smell she was pretty certain was bacon. She didn't bother to change out of her pajamas or look at herself in the mirror. The smell of bacon seemed to be calling to her and who was she to deny such a request?

"Good morning," Hermione greeted as she walked into the small kitchen where George was working away.

"Mornin'," he answered as he took a piece of bacon out of the pan with his finger, burning it slightly, but took a bite anyway before handing it over to Hermione.

"You think I'm just going to eat the bacon that you've already eaten some of?" Hermione smiled slightly as she pulled herself up to sit on the little piece of counter that wasn't cluttered.

"Seeing as you already started eating it, yes, yes I do," George smiled in return.

"You seem rather happy," Hermione commented.

"I slept really well last night," he shrugged in response, looking into her eyes. Hermione could see the thank you there that he couldn't quite bring himself to say to her outright.

"I'm glad. If you ever need to sleep well again…" she trailed off. How could she even say this? You know where to find me? That sounded stupid. My bed is always open? It sounded like an invitation for more than what she was suggesting. She didn't need to think of a way to finish the sentence, however, because he gave a swift nod of understanding.

"Ok," George grinned happily, carrying the plates of food to the rundown table, "we need to eat so we can go and start painting and, hopefully, get some good work done today."

"Are you insinuating that I didn't do good work yesterday?" Hermione mocked as she sat across from him and started to fill her plate.

"Of course, Hermione, you're horrible. More horrible then Douglas Rovwall, the wizard famous for-"

"Working on a wizarding disease cure and only making the disease worse. How'd you know that?" Hermione cut in.

"Someone had to do some research. You don't think I just throw ingredients into a pot and hope something gets invented, do you?" George said as he took another bite of eggs.

"No, nothing like that, I just…I don't know," she answered.

"I may have not have known where the library was at Hogwarts for my first few years, but I do know how to open up a book. Which, might I add, is significantly better than Ron, who I'm not sure even has that skill," George joked.

Hermione snorted and then covered her mouth quickly to make sure the food she was chewing on wasn't going to spray everywhere. She laughed slightly but tried to cover it up a bit because of the obnoxiousness of it (she'd been informed of it more than once by Ron).

"Don't cover up laughs, it's not allowed in your job position or this flat," he ordered.

"Ok," Hermione grinned in return.

"Wonderful, now let's go get some painting done," George bounced up.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, "but I just got up and there's such good food and-"

"We have work to do and I already let you sleep in later than we should have. Now, if you're good maybe we can go out to eat lunch today," George fake-scolded.

"Yea, yea, yea…" she complained without fooling George because of the smile apparent on her face.

As Hermione followed down the stairs after George she thought about her life right now. She couldn't believe how different her life was then she had always planned. At this age she had thought she'd be in some kind of head position of a department at the ministry, marrying Ron, and preparing to be a bridesmaid for Angelina and Fred's wedding. Not even a ten-year plan could help steer you out of a war, Hermione realized.

"Paint," George stated as he pointed at the paint below him.

"Paint," she repeated with a nod.

"We should start," he stated in a commanding type of way.

Hermione picked up a roller and dipped it into the paint before starting on a wall. George followed suit and they began rolling paint onto the walls to the best of their abilities. They worked together in silence that perturbed Hermione. Sure, she could appreciate the beauty of silence; she had done it with George just the other day, but this felt like a heavy coat she wanted to take off. After setting down the roller into the paint tray she turned to George, who didn't notice her at first, and waited until he turned and faced her.

"Yes?"

"Music. We need some music. I can't work in this quiet," Hermione responded loudly.

"I can do that," George stated before turning back to the wall.

The next thing that he did completely came out of Left Park for Hermione. Music, she thought he'd get his radio or do some sort of frivolous magic she had never bothered to learn herself.

George started to sing.

He turned towards her and began singing with crazy gestures and dance moves she'd only seen at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Hermione watched him look so carefree and began to laugh herself. She danced around him and sang along completely off-key with him. Neither of them had very good voices, nor did they know the proper words to the song, but the pure joy in the song couldn't be ignored.

"I thought you were going to get the radio," Hermione breathed out after they stopped and were both laughing quietly.

"I did too, don't even know where that came from," George stated back softly, not wanting to break the quiet they had.

George looked at her for a second with a perplexed expression. Hermione looked back at him and watched as he turned his head and looked at the far wall, seemingly in some kind of bad state of mind. He looked disturbed and mad at himself. His eyes became blank then and his face followed as he stood up abruptly and looked towards Hermione.

"We have to go back to work, I'm going to go work on the other wall," George ordered before walking away with forceful steps.

Hermione stared after him until he began working before turning back to the wall she was supposed to be working on. She couldn't seem to figure out what had happened. George and her were having fun and he suddenly just got upset and walked away. There was no hope of helping him if he wouldn't tell her what was wrong or what had just occurred. He was being a prat, she decided, and it made her angry.

No, Hermione shook her head. It really wasn't his fault that he was having these issues. He was just upset and had every right to be. She had to stop forgetting that Fred, his twin, best friend, and only confidant, was dead. It was so easy for her to not be very upset about it when she still saw and spoke with him almost every day. Some people would die to have such a privilege, but she was willing to just give it away right about now. Hermione wasn't sure she could handle another second of pretending everything was perfectly normal.

Things hadn't been normal for her for a very long time. They'd maybe never been normal, she concluded. They definitely weren't normal during the battle, during the horcrux hunt, certainly not in her Hogwarts' years. It hadn't been normal even before that, though, when she had been a dorky little girl with an affinity for folk tales, fairytales, and not to forget biographies. Any book she could get her hands on was read and talked about to her peers, which they never understood. Hermione Granger had never had quite a normal life and it was quite all right; she'd never been a normal girl.

She'd always been all right with it all in a way she wasn't anymore. She didn't want to see Fred walking around and chatting with her. She didn't want to see George in despair when she knew she could converse with the one cure for his depression. Hermione didn't want them all dead, all the ones she loved, and she didn't want to have to help the people she had no desire to move on, move on.

"You should probably get off your 'stare into blank space' break," George broke her out of her thoughts in an icy tone from the other side of the room, not even looking over at her as he said it.

"Sorry," she said loudly before muttering, "git," under her breath.

"What was that?" George turned around from the wall to look at her.

"Nothing," she said in reply, turning back to her own work.

"You said git, don't call me a git," George responded angrily.

"Stop acting like one!" she snapped, turning towards him and setting down the paint rod down before walking towards him.

"I have a right to be a little upset-"

"Ok! Great! Be a little upset! All you've been doing is alternating between anger and complete indifference. You're acting like all of your problems are the worst out of every single person out there!" Hermione yelled.

"Sorry to break it to you, Hermione, but my problems seem to be worse than most other people!" he belted in response.

"Really? Your situation doesn't seem too bad to me! You've got a family around you, a business that will be back on its feet in no time, friends that would do anything for you, and a new flat mate that only wants to see you get better…I don't know what you think lies out there, but there are plenty of people who can't say that," Hermione raged with wild hand gestures.

"Since when have you even cared?" he replied forcefully, reducing the decibels in which he was yelling before.

"I know you see me as some perfect book-worm prefect, but I do care about more than just rules. It may come as a surprise to you, but you're not the only one with _problems _here," she hissed.

"Oh, please! I would love to hear about _all_ the problems in your perfect little life. Perfect family, perfect friends, loads of smarts, and the high paying ministry job you're sure to get once you're done playing at whatever it is you're doing here."

"Perfect?" she scoffed. "I wish. My parents hate me right now for altering their memories and won't even talk to me. My so-called friends, well, Ron is off getting a big head and trying to make up for all those 'lost opportunities with the ladies from Hogwarts' as he likes to call it and Harry's always upset with Ron for it and he never acts the same around me. Him and Ginny are too busy with each other to even know I'm around. I don't even have my NEWT's and most of those jobs I've been offered only want me because of my title and not what I can do."

"Oh poor you, offered job positions, how dare they?" he sarcastically replied.

"Get out of my face!" Hermione belted back, clear and pure rage evident in her voice.

"It's my shop!"

"And it's my wand," she responded, pulling out her wand from her hair, which had been holding it up. Her hair cascaded down to her shoulder and seemed to have electricity coursing through it.

George walked up the stairs loudly and slammed the door shut. Hermione sat down and breathed deeply before succumbing to the tears she had been feeling coming for a while now. She couldn't do this anymore. Hermione needed someone on her side, someone to be a friend by her side, and George seemed to be the person for the job. She just felt like a complete jerk; she was surprised by how alone she felt now that George wasn't talking to her.

Hermione got up after a few minutes of crying and then some of deep breathing to prevent the anxiety attack she felt approaching. It had only been ten minutes or so, possibly longer, and she was already freaking out about this fight. There would be no way she could get to sleep tonight or even pretend to be all right in this mood. She had to fix this immediately or she'd be troubled for quite some time.

She wiped off her dusty clothes, tried to pull her hair back into a somewhat presentable state, and wiped her face of the tears that clung there. Hermione walked up the stairs lightly as to not concern George if he was in the living room and with a determination in her stride that could only be classified as 'Granger'. The door opened easily under her hand and the living room was completely empty. She tiptoed to his bedroom door and knocked on it. When met with no response she pushed it open anyway and walked in.

George sat on the bed in a moody jumble with bloodshot eyes and an angry demeanor. Hermione walked over to the bed and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"Sorry too," he mumbled with some anger, but also a tone that made him sound like he regretted the things he had said.

"The thing is, not just for the fight George. I'm sorry for everything: Fred, Alicia, I know how you've fancied her, and also for being there," she responded forcefully, feeling the words get stuck in her throat but needing to push them out anyhow. She felt if she didn't get them out now than she never would.

"For being there?"

"When Fred died. I was there and I saw it, just saw it happen right in front of me and couldn't do a damn thing. I just thought about all the spells I should have tried or I could've just hexed the death eater that was there, but any way it played out I'm so sorry I couldn't save him. I should have tried and I didn't and it's my fault…so much my fault," Hermione felt dry sobs take over her body, making her hyperventilate and push down on her chest from the pang there. She was breathing fast and her entire body was jittering. That anxiety attack happened after all.

"Hermione, calm down, it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry for being such an arse; I'm sorry; you didn't deserve it. I'm just upset and acting stupid because I don't know what to do and I'm taking it out on you, which you really don't deserve at all," he tried to soothe. George didn't usually have a crying witch in front of him and he wasn't really sure what to do about it. He usually helped with the cheering up part, that's how it had always worked with Ginny. When she cried she was given to Bill to dry the tears and calm her down and then him and Fred came in after the tears were gone and made jokes to make her feel better.

Point of the matter was, George was not a specialist at crying witches.

"I'm sorry too, you have had a hell of a bad time lately and I'm just adding salt to the wound and rubbing it in by being a jerk right back. Can we be all right again? Because I need you to be my friend," Hermione spoke.

"Yea, I think that'd be good," George smiled. "Now none of this fluffy crap, I'm George Weasley, manly man extraordinaire."

"Oh yea, exceptionally manly," Hermione beamed in return, grabbing George's offered hand off of the bed.

"Let's take our lunch break now and go get lunch; I'm hungry."

"Sounds great," Hermione responded. She felt lighter now that she had gotten some of that off her chest and so did George. It was good and Hermione wished that she could get all of her feelings and secrets out, though she knew she couldn't. Either way, she was just delighted that her and George were friends again.

She could really use a friend right now.


	7. Chapter of Late Nights

**A little bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>As Hermione looked over at George who was lying down beside her for the third night in a row, she thought about what he'd been like after seeing Fred. He never screamed, never sobbed uncontrollably, it was like he just skipped all of those steps and landed on another: depression. It was a depression deeper than she ever thought possible, but she wasn't even sure it could be called that. It was almost just emptiness. He looked like something had just been ripped out of him and he didn't know how to fill it. It was a piece that seemed the most important of all to him and he had no way to cope.<p>

George had never been the kind of saddened man to sit in his room and self-pity himself, though this surprised many. He didn't let himself whither away, he didn't allow himself to not bathe, and he didn't allow himself to go into a full-blown depression that made him do nothing at all. On the other hand, he wasn't by any means completely upright and chipper. He was putting on a show so that he wouldn't be pestered and pitied.

He was subdued, a lot more than usual, though some wouldn't notice; he couldn't seem to eat certain foods without wincing or grimacing, most likely from memories of Fred; couldn't banter the way he used to because to him it felt like there was always someone missing; he was _never_ able to look himself in a mirror; and he still couldn't even fathom sleeping by himself. George had gained a myriad of little habits and symptoms of the loss he felt towards Fred.

There would be a breakdown, Hermione decided. There was no way a normal person could go on for so long with a loss and only show it in little symptoms. He had had barely any mourning period before jumping up and trying to fix himself. Fixing yourself for others' sakes wasn't good and neither was holding in everything he was. He had let out a little of his anger at Hermione the other day, but there was still plenty more stored away. Sobbing, maybe, or anger that couldn't even be compared to what would seem a silly little argument they had only days before. These would come eventually.

If there was one thing she wished she could do, it would be to help him. It was hard for her to look at him and not look at the wonderful things about him that were lost. He hadn't pranked once since the entire battle nor had he really teased someone the way he used to that made you feel loved even though he was saying something mean, but you knew he didn't mean it and it was a term of endearment in his own way. He looked slightly weaker from his strange eating habits and refused to pick up a broom since the funeral. He wouldn't look at reflections of himself so his hair was in constant disarray.

His eyes, Hermione thought, were the worst. Underneath those eyes you could see the pain that was being caged in and the anger and sadness that were being held back. It was like seeing your favorite movie actress act like the heroine you so adored but her having a completely different hair color: it didn't feel the same, like she wasn't really the character being displayed in front of you. To Hermione, seeing George's eyes showed her that him being calm was mostly an act to fend off attention and confrontation with his feelings.

Hermione looked at him, really looked at him and could still see the traits that had held all those girls' hearts captive at Hogwarts. George held a sort of mischievous demeanor that couldn't be acquired, only given at birth, and good looks that were atypical because he was good-looking in a way most girls couldn't quite describe. His charms didn't come from his looks or his smile, though it sometimes played a supporting role. As Hermione continued to think about just what made George Weasley tick, she slowly drifted into sleep.

The morning that followed was different than the two before, where George had woken up before her. She was up bright and early, even earlier than what she deemed acceptable on a normal basis. She stood up quietly, not wanting to inform him of her leaving the room, and tiptoed out of the room. Hermione decided that it was time for her to pay a visit to Ginny's flat and spend some time with her friend, even if it was probably going to involve waking her up and coercing her into spending time with her.

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><p>"George, George!" Hermione called as she jumped on the bed and attempted to wake up the redhead.<p>

"What!" he launched up, grabbing for his wand on the bedside table.

"You're fine! George, I just want you to get up," Hermione told him with a hand to his shoulder to comfort him.

"Oh, then let me go back to bed, you sod," George grumbled, pulling the blanket above his head.

"Not bloody likely, I have something to tell you that you'll love," she sing-songed and walked out of the room in a manner that had George following her easily.

"Ok, I want to know, what happened?" he asked even though he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.

"All right…I'll tell you…" she trailed off before turning to him and talking in a manner he never thought he'd hear Hermione Granger talk in: entirely too gossipy. "So I was at Ginny's flat because I couldn't sleep and I entered and jumped on her much as the same as I did to you-"

"You left? I didn't even notice," he commented.

"Yea, not for too long or anything, but you need to stop interrupting the story! Geez…anyway, so I was at the flat and I had woken that lazy git up-"

"Hermione, she's not lazy…it's called sleeping," George interrupted.

"What did I say about interrupting?" she reprimanded, waiting for a quick sorry before continuing. "Ginny and I were talking when she got a floo call from one of your brothers, and guess how surprised I was to see it was Percy!"

"Very surprised."

"Rhetorical question, George," Hermione pointed her finger at him before talking again. "Ginny told me to be quiet as she talked to him and then came back to tell me what just happened. Would you like to make an assumption as to what it was about?"

"Elephants eati-"

"Love, George, it was about love," she cut him off. "Percy, my dear boss, believes he is in love."

"With who?"

"I'm not so sure I can say…" she trailed off.

"So you wake me up far earlier than any human should be up, tell me this entire longwinded story while I get yelled at, and then not even tell me the interesting part? You. Are. Nutters," George stated as he stood up and began walking back towards the bedroom.

"Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to keep it a secret, no jabs about it, please! It's…" Hermione paused dramatically.

"Woman, you are killing me, please get on with it," George shook his head like she was crazy.

"Pansy!"

"Parkinson?" he screeched, looking at her with wide eyes.

"Yes, the queen bee Slytherin herself. He thinks she's his soul mate! She started working in some department and they ended up working together. They've apparently gone on a few dates and now he bloody loves her! Can you believe it?"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief as she looked over at George. He seemed to be in thought and it intrigued her. What could he possibly be thinking? _Pansy, duh_, Hermione thought to herself. The look on his face surprised her, though. She thought there'd be one of disgust or anger, possibly. Maybe even one of trying to understand but not really getting it. The face she saw was just one of complete understanding and almost like he'd been missing things that should have been completely obvious.

"Ok, you have to tell me what you're thinking," Hermione stated.

"It's just, it makes sense."

George looked up at her as if it just dawned on him, which it had, and she looked back utterly confused. "Sense?"

"Yea, I mean, they actually make logical sense as a couple. They're both kind of annoying; social-climbers; ambitious about getting their goals, sometimes even doing drastic things to get them; they're both quite vocal about their feelings and opinions, which I'm sure will give them lots to talk and debate about; but they're not completely similar: Percy is more serious and she's a bit more, well…_not. _All in all, I think they might actually work out," George explained to her.

"What about the whole, 'opposites attract' thing?" Hermione questioned.

"Well, that does work for some couples, Lily and James Potter for example, but don't you think they're both a little too close-minded to work that angle? I don't see Percy as a guy who could accept a girl who was very opposite of him and Pansy isn't really open to all people either," George defended his point, leaning back in the chair he had just newly sat on.

"I guess in that case, yea, I could really see them," Hermione answered.

"See, sometimes you just have to look at something in a different light. Now, you crazy lady, I am getting a few more hours of sleep," George shook his head and shuffled back to her bedroom.

"A new perspective, maybe that would be perfect," Hermione mumbled to herself before aparating away.


	8. Chapter of Resolutions

I** would have posted this Saturday but wasn't cooperating!**

**Anyways, better late than never!**

**I wanted to let you know that I am participating in NaNoWriMo so updates won't be very frequent this month but they'll be normal again after that hopefully! If you're interested in my story I will probably end up posting it on my fictionpress (link on my profile) so you can check that out!**

**Enjoy (:**

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><p>Hermione Granger was not a believer in fate. She'd often found fate a reason for people to give up or tell themselves there was nothing they could do in seemingly difficult situations. If you want something done properly, then you were to do it yourself. Don't wait for some unseen force to apparently do it for you and don't make excuses. Of course things happened for a reason, but it was her disbelief in fate that forced her down the streets of a muggle neighborhood toward her childhood home.<p>

Inspiration had hit Hermione when George had urged her to look at things in a new light. She wasn't going to just _wait_ for her parents to forgive her. She would use fact and well-reinforced reasons to make them see her side more clearly. Hermione had always been a book learner, a lover of cold hard facts, why would she change the way she did things now?

No sound was audible as Hermione walked up the steps to her childhood home. She raised her fist to knock on the door but stopped herself midway. There had been a time when she would have just walked in with no reservations. A time like that no longer existed: she'd become an adult and made some adult decisions, decisions her parents hadn't agreed with. Her chest gained a strong pang as she thought about the first time she had tried to talk about this with them. Before it could get too large, she knocked on the door quickly.

"Hello?" Hermione's father opened the door, distracted by a game on the television behind him. He looked quickly to his daughter and did a double take upon seeing who exactly it was. "Hermione! Uh- Come on in."

She nodded and smiled warmly, entering somewhat awkwardly. When her conclusion to come here and explain her reasoning to her parents had been just a large theoretical it had been simple, but putting this idea she'd cultivated all yesterday into action was harder than expected.

"Jean! Hermione's here," her father coughed uncomfortably. The sound of feet clomping down the stairs followed soon after and Hermione's mother appeared. Her facial expression clearly showed she hadn't been expecting Hermione and that she had thought the statement her husband had made was a lie. Why there was any need for such a lie she had no idea.

"Hello Hermione. What can I do for you?" she spoke, crossing her arms in a defiant gesture.

"I'd like to talk to you both and give you a better explanation than I did the first time," Hermione answered. In response Mr. Granger motioned to the kitchen table, Hermione choosing to sit on the opposite side of her parents.

Just as Hermione was about to start, something on the coffee table caught her eye. She looked down at the deep scratch that she'd put into the table herself one Christmas dinner when her Aunt Imogene wouldn't stop talking. Her eyes washed over it and then looked at the perfect, worn-in circle where her cold drinks used to always sit. So many memories sat in front of her and as she ran her hands over the gash, she began to talk.

"I don't believe you understood or currently understand, rather, the necessity of what I did for you. Voldemort is the worst wizard I've ever met. He killed many innocent people without even a single _sliver_ of thought behind it and thought it fun. His followers, the Deatheaters, did his bidding with no question, doing acts so terrible I cringe at the mere mention of them. I'm Harry Potter's best friend. Harry Potter is the most notable wizard alive and the only wizard that held the true power to defeat him. I went on an adventure with him to help him complete this task and when I was gone they would have done anything to find out where and what we were doing, including using you."

"We didn't know anything, though, it wouldn't have been a problem," her mother seethed.

"Oh, you honestly do not understand these people and how purely evil they were. They would not _care_ if you honestly had information or not. They would act like you did and they would break you so hard you would crave death," Hermione told them, thinking about how terrible it had been, how terrible _they_ had been.

"The point your mother believes is the most important, Hermione, is that you should have discussed this with us first," he intervened.

"So you could say no?" Hermione scoffed. "I wasn't going to allow you to be raped and tortured. Dad, they would have done horrifying things to mom right in front of you to try to gain information you didn't even possess. I wasn't about to end up like Susan Bones, whose whole family has been killed by Voldemort."

"We could have hidden with our memories in tact," Mrs. Granger retorted.

"No, you couldn't have," Hermione stated simply.

"I'd rather have the possibility of dying while knowing who my daughter is. What if I died of cancer or a car crash or something? What then?"

"I could have lived with that far more than I could have handled death by Deatheater."

"This all seems slightly ridiculous, Hermione. It could not have been as bad as you seem to think it was," Mr. Granger spoke up.

"You don't know them!" Hermione snapped, slamming her hands on the table.

"And you do?" Mrs. Granger screamed.

"Yes! I've been tortured and seen the looks in their eyes. It's a look that haunts my dreams and scares me to death," Hermione proclaimed.

"You were tortured?" Mr. Granger paled.

"Yea," she mumbled.

"Well, this new revelation only confirms the thing I was going to ask of you when I saw you next: the only apparent course of action. You should give up your magical friends, magic, and magical life, and move back home so we can reform our family," Mrs. Granger revealed.

"My magic? Forever?" Hermione squealed in protest.

"We're not completely unreasonable, after some time you can go back to the craft-"

"You know," Mrs. Granger cut in, "I think not. It's about time she's chosen. This magic has split our family up too much already in our life and I will not stand for it. She couldn't go on with this ridiculous notion of magic anyhow. It was going to be time to become practical soon."

"Practical?" Hermione belted.

"Yes, practical. Magic is just a hobby that is no longer realistic," Mrs. Granger stood up and matched her stare.

"Magic is my life, I can't just give it up. It's part of who I am," Hermione asserted, staring back at her mother with a fierce intensity.

"You can figure out who you are though the real world. Magic really shouldn't be necessary."

"I have been using magic since I was 11! I can't just forget about or ignore something that has been my life for so many years."

"I quit smoking, you can quit magic," Mr. Granger declared.

"Smoking isn't like magic! Magic is literally apart of me. Without it I don't have anything! No friends, no job, and nothing to keep me occupied and sane. I don't know who I am without magic. You can't make me choose, please don't make me," Hermione pleaded.

"Mom, please?" Hermione begged.

Her mother continued to look at her unbendingly.

"Dad? Please? You've always been the reasonable one, why can't you see how unfair this is? Please, daddy, please?" Hermione looked at him and requested his understanding. Mr. Granger looked slightly sad but didn't say anything and looked away so he didn't have to look her in the eyes.

Silence filled the room all around Hermione and she nodded her head slightly. "Ok, if that's the case then I'd just like to collect some of my books," her voice cracked. She made her way to her bedroom swiftly. Her trembling hand sat atop of the doorknob and she ignored the "Hermione" yelled behind her as she pushed the old wooden door open.

The room in front of her was not the room she had known in her time here. This room showed no signs of the sleepovers and hanging out of her youth. The posters she'd once painstakingly put up were gone, the stain from a potion she'd once tried to brew on the carpet was no longer there, and her closet hung empty. In place of her once charming bedspread was a generic teenage girl one and the trinkets that once belonged on the tables sitting next to the bed were nowhere to be seen. There wasn't one trace of the girl who'd lived in this room her whole life: Hermione.

"My room? What's with my room?" Hermione looked around wildly at her parents.

"Your cousin Melissa, Aunt Peg's daughter, is coming to stay with us because of some family and behavioral issues. She's living with us for a while," Mr. Granger explained softly; his voice sounded tense and uneasy and he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"I see," Hermione responded upset. "Where are my belongings?"

"Attic," came a slightly ashamed answer.

Ignoring the stares of her parents, Hermione walked up to the attic and looked for her stuff. She collected her books and magiced the boxes to follow behind her. Walking back down the stairs Hermione seethed, how could they do this to her? She was their daughter and they were dumping her like dirty trash, she'd been replaced even before she'd made her decision.

Standing in front of her parents she tried to set her anger to the side for a few moments to soak in the last glimpse she would get of them. Her father with his dorky glasses and bookish appearance, the person that taught her to read and fed her books under the table when her mother wasn't looking (reading had never been Hermione's mother's favorite choice of activity for the young girl, making friends and playing outdoors with the neighborhood children first and sports second, then followed by ridiculous things like reading). His hair was graying and he'd never looked more like home in her whole entire life. The man that had taught her to ride a bike and to punch properly was going to no longer be a part of her life.

Hermione's mother looked the exact same as the last time she had seen her. That would be the thing she remembered the most about her mother: the products and smell of beauty that resonated from her. Mrs. Granger had always seemed like the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world to Hermione when she was young. She hadn't always been the best mother, but she had tried her best and she _was_ her mom. That was something that could never be replaced.

Her parents had never been perfect, Hermione didn't think perfect parents existed, but hey had always done their best for her. They worked and gave beautiful birthday parties and fed her books when all she wanted to do was read. It was them that came to her mind first when she heard the word family, but she realized it wasn't true anymore: they didn't want her if she wasn't going to conform to what they wanted her to be.

"I hope Melissa is everything you hoped for. I'm sure she'll be the exact daughter you had always wanted mother, the daughter I never was. I'm sure she'll even be popular," Hermione sarcastically retorted. She was about to apparate away before turning back towards her mother in an anger she couldn't contain. "By the way, I'm living in a flat, with a _guy_ who isn't my boyfriend and is actually my boss. He slept in the same bed as me last night," she stated, saying exactly what she knew would surprise and upset her parents the most. Sure enough, the last sight she had of them before they completely left her view was her mother's mouth in a perfect o.

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><p>The pop that broke the quiet at the Weasley flat was a loud one. George knew that could only mean two things: Hermione had wanted to make some unnecessary noise or her emotions were out of check. He concluded that it must be the latter. Hermione was a powerful witch and if her apparating pop sounded untrained and loud it must mean she was immensely upset to not be able to control it.<p>

"Hermione? Where were you?" George called through the fault.

"My parents house," she responded as she stomped towards her bedroom.

"Didn't go well?"

"Not so much," she answered, entering her room, and slamming the door. The music boomed out in an attempt to try to cover the loud, sorrowful, and desperate sobs of one Hermione Granger.

They were still noticeable.


	9. Chapter of A Conclusion

**NaNoWriMo is still going on for me right now and I'm currently a little bit behind, so patience! We'll see when i get to post next...I don't know. I couldn't leave you all hanging for too long, though, so here's the new chapter and I hope you honestly enjoy (: I'm really curious as to what you think about this chapter...**

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><p>"Hermione?" George called, piercing the silence and waking up Hermione. She could feel she was in a bad state: she'd slept in her clothes, which were now rumpled; her eyes were puffy and her hair felt like a nest a top of her head. There was no way she'd let anyone she her like this: even George, who she knew wouldn't be rude about it, especially in his current state. "Why don't you clean up then come out? I have something for you."<p>

In a sudden trepidation and excitement, Hermione jumped in the shower quickly and washed hastily. She wasn't sure what George had for her, but anything excited her. She needed something to distract from the fact that she didn't have parents and her parents seemed to waste no time in replacing her. Sure, she had never discussed the situation with her parents before taking their memories, but hadn't they done the same to her? They hadn't asked her if it was all right if they took in Melissa, if they demolished her room, or if they gave it to _her. _Thinking about whatever little something George had for her made her happier, even if it was something small or strange.

Hermione dressed rapidly in a worn pair of jeans and a casual shirt. She stole one of George's sweaters that sat close by because of the goose bumps that were collecting on her arms, though she wasn't sure they were from the cold. She pulled the sweater over her head anyway, ignoring the fact that it was far too large for her and clearly didn't fit.

"George?' she spoke as she exited her room.

"In the kitchen," came the reply. When she entered he made no comment on the sweater and began talking almost immediately. "I made Caesar salad pizza."

"Not eating it," she shook her head fervently.

"Why not?" he seemed surprised.

"The only things you're good at cooking are breakfast foods, everything else you make is complete rubbish. It is immensely possible that whatever you created will poison or kill me, if not scar me for life," Hermione responded wholeheartedly, eyeing the food with apprehension.

"Ok, now would be a good time to tell you that I didn't make it, I just coerced my mother to."

"Wrong word choice, I doubt you threatened your mother to make food," she pointed out.

"Fine, I talked her into it, you happy? Now are you going to eat or not?"

"Definitely," she answered enthusiastically, putting some on a plate and sitting down. "How'd you know it way my favorite?"

"Talked to Ginny," he responded, digging in himself.

Saying those things made it fully click in Hermione's mind. George getting this food for her was his way of comforting and helping. They were in a relationship where they didn't pester each other or force things out of the other; they were perfectly content to wait it out and sit by their side until it was time. Some would think it strange, their friendship, but it worked for them. What George was giving was a hand extended in understanding, it was the same as when she pulled back the covers and let him in. Which reminded her…

"By the way, where'd you sleep last night? I never saw you come in," Hermione spoke, covering her mouth to hide her chewed food.

"I was at Ginny's last night. She wanted to see a movie and I had promised I would watch it with her. I ended up falling asleep next to her on the couch where she did the same thing," he explained.

"What'd you watch?"

"Bloody Indiana Jones," he replied.

"Why so harsh? I thought you would like them."

"Not when you watched them all right after the other. Quite annoying, especially when Ron pops in being all git-like as usual."

"What did he do?"

"Just popped in, asked if Harry was there, and then popped out. No hello or goodbye, the prat," George shook his head. "No wonder he's single."

Hermione giggled before a rushed knock on the door broke her thoughts. "Hermione, open up, please," Ginny called through the door in distress. She got up quickly and flung the door open.

"What's wrong?"

"Harry, he- Harry broke up with me Hermione! I didn't think- how could he-" Ginny gasped, hyperventilating slightly, still wearing a shell-shocked expression.

"Come in Ginny, come sit down," Hermione replied. For as long as she could remember it had always been Ginny and Harry. Even when she'd been dating Dean and Michael she knew it wouldn't last, it had always been a question as to when they'd break up. Harry and Ginny were one of those couples that seemed to be fated in the stars. You wished your relationships were as perfect as theirs.

Suddenly, though, Hermione realized what she was thinking. Wasn't that exactly what everyone had thought about her and Ron? They'd been plotted to be together even before Harry and Ginny. It made perfect sense now. Hermione and Ron were always 'supposed' to be together and so were Harry and Ginny and they all broke up. These fated relationships apparently weren't all that fated. Hermione felt like there was still something sitting right in front of her and she couldn't see it, what was she missing?

"What happened?" Hermione asked as she sat Ginny down.

"Harry, he came over this morning and I asked him if he wanted to get breakfast like we do a lot. He just looked at me- really looked at me like I've never seen him do before. It was with this sudden realization, like, he'd been looking at me all this time and never truly seen me, which sounds completely ridiculous, said aloud. Anyways, he looked at me and just said 'Ginny, I don't think we were meant to be together. You can find someone who loves you more'. Then I told him that I really didn't want anyone else to love me, he's the only one for me. He replied by saying that I didn't mean what I was saying and that I was wrong. That git! Told me what _I_ should be feeling. The audacity… So he told me that and I responded by questioning if there was someone else, because he seemed almost somewhat strained. He told me he wasn't sure yet, and then wished me best, kissed my forehead, and walked out of the flat," Ginny explained to Hermione, who was paying intent attention.

"Hey, who was- Ginny?" George nonchalantly asked as he walked into the room, still eating a slice of the pizza.

"Ah, so that was why you asked her favorite food," Ginny sniffled and accepted the tissue Hermione offered.

"Ginny," Hermione interrupted, "don't get offended, but to me you don't seem that upset. You seem upset, don't get me wrong, but you don't seem 'the-love-of-my-life-just-broke-up-with-me upset'. Is it possible that this wasn't such a bad thing? Maybe you weren't as in love as you thought. It's possible that you really were meant to split up, that you weren't meant to spend forever together," Hermione offered, trying to say it was kindly as she could.

Ginny stared at Hermione in awe, as well as George. They both looked at her as if they honestly couldn't believe she'd said that. George had to admit she had guts for suggesting such a thing and if it wasn't Hermione Granger who had said it, he highly doubted the person wouldn't have been slapped. It _was_ Hermione, however, and her opinion and advice meant loads to Ginny. Ginny thought it over a little bit more before drawing her conclusion.

"You know," she spoke slowly, trying to think of the exact way she wanted to word it, "in a way, I think I could feel it, the fact that Harry and I weren't going to work out. We became too comfortable around each other, like we were just best friends. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pissed he broke up with me, but a bigger part of me is somewhat grateful for having the guts to finally call something off that just wasn't working."

George shook his head slightly in disbelief at Hermione. She was the only person he knew that could tell his flaming redhead sister after a break up that maybe it wasn't such a bad things and gets a hug for it. She honestly was extraordinary. If he had said something like that he'd be groaning in pain right now.

"Wait, wait, wait," Hermione gaped, standing up abruptly with a look like something finally clicked. "Did you say that Harry said he wasn't sure yet when you asked if there was someone else?"

"Yea, why-"

"How could I have been so stupid? I can't believe I missed it!" Hermione groaned loudly, grasping her hair and giving a slight tug in anger.

"Hermione, whatever part you think you missed, I'm sure you're about the only person to think it up. You're probably actually ahead of schedule," George spoke up.

"I'll be back later, I have to go see Harry," Hermione shook her head, rushing around the room before leaving with a pop.

The last piece of the puzzle had finally popped in and she couldn't believe she'd missed it. How was that even possible? Harry was her best friend and she'd completely missed something major going on in his life. What kind of friend was she? Not a very good one, she conjectured.

"Harry! Harry," she yelled around his flat, trying to find her friend to tell him she knew.

"Hermione?" he called back curiously, walking out of the kitchen.

"I know, oh Harry, I'm so sorry I haven't been here for you. I should have noticed sooner, I'm a rubbish friend," she sighed, holding onto him tightly.

"Thank god, Hermione, it's been so hard. I didn't know what to do and I've been so confused. I need you," he grabbed her back and wiped the few stray tears he had on his face away. "How'd you figure it out?"

"Remember in the tent when I told you that I'm highly logical? That I look past miniscule details and see things others don't?" Hermione asked, receiving a nod from Harry. "That's what I did, I just looked at the details and they suddenly added up."

"Ginny, she just came over to tell me you broke up with her and I suddenly realized it all. The reason you've seemed so distraught the last few months and why you've been staring off into space a lot. Then George told me that Ron popped in when they had a movie night and asked for you in a hurried fashion. The next day you and Ginny broke up, that isn't coincidence, is it?" she questioned.

"No- No it's not," he responded.

"I figured all of it out when Ginny told me your comment about not being sure if there was someone else or not. So you aren't sure about Ron and you being together?" Hermione concluded

"No, he came to me last night and told me that he couldn't hold it in anymore. He said he was scared of what everyone would say, especially his family, but that he wanted to be with me," Harry told her, nervously shaking as he explained.

"I'm behind you 100%, no matter what you choose. You should know that I honestly can't think of a better couple, you'd be happy together, really happy."

"It's weird, though. It's why I've been struggling so much. I never thought I was gay; I'd always liked girls. I just thought my crushes on you, Cho, and Ginny didn't work out because, well, I don't know, I never thought maybe I was looking at the wrong gender," Harry chuckled.

"I don't think you're gay," she told him.

"But I thought you said-"

"I'm going to steal a quote from a muggle show I love. 'It doesn't matter who you're attracted to, it ultimately matters who you fall in love with'. You're not gay, if you were honestly gay you couldn't have fallen in love with Ginny so much, you just love Ron. You fell in love with Ron and it didn't matter that he was a guy and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

"I seriously doubt I could love you more right now," Harry laughed. "Would you by any chance know any wizarding law rules on gay marriage? You know, just in case?" Harry asked innocently.

"You have just as many equal rights as a heterosexual couple," Hermione confirmed.

"Well that's good. Not that I plan on marrying the nutter any time soon, but it's good to know," Harry answered.

"How have you been Harry? With all of this…" she waved her hands around.

"It was hard, realizing you fell in love with your best friend is one thing, but realizing you fell in love with your best friend that's a guy is a whole other thing. I just, I want to be happy, you know?"

"Yea, I know. You will be, I think you just need to tell Ron your feelings like he told you his. He did a very Gryffindor thing by doing it and I think he deserves the same in return," Hermione stated.

"What if- what if it doesn't work out though? What if we try it out and it doesn't work and we never talk to each other again? He's my best friend, Hermione, I can't lose him," he worriedly voiced.

"Well, you could not try just because there's a risk of something bad going to happen and miss out on possibly the best relationship ever or you could try and maybe fall flat on your face but you'd have no regrets. I know what you're going to do because I know you Harry. You'll try and you should."

"Yea, you're right."

"I tend to be," she pretended to say in a very pompous manner.

"Yea, yea…so not that we have my life drama out of the way, isn't that always the case, I was wondering how you and George are doing living with each other," Harry questioned, repositioning himself on the couch they had just moved to.

"Very nice, actually: he makes fantastic breakfasts, keeps the bathroom decently clean, and is giving me a job, so, you know, perk. The thing is, though, that I can see all his pain- he has so much of it and it's being held back like a tiger in a cage, but once that cage door opens…I'm not sure what I'm going to do because I'm not sure what's going to happen."

"You seem to be rather affectionate with him, are you getting to know him pretty well?"

"Getting to know the George I see, yea," she repeated.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm not sure he's going to be like this forever, the way I see him. He seems to be keeping things from view, and, yea, he still has this quality that's undeniably George, but it's still not the George we used to know. He used to prank and invent and make everyone around him feel special even though he was picking on you. He just seems so empty now, and he still jokes and smiles and there's times when I think I see the George that I used to somewhat know, that I want to get to know again along with the new George, but then he disappears faster than you can say Hufflepuff and looks like this huge empty shell that I don't know how to fill," Hermione sighed.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way to make him better, you always do know how to help people," Harry said.

"I just hope that's true. He deserves someone who can make him feel better," Hermione reasoned.

"What about you Hermione? Don't you deserve anything?"

"I deserve to not be questioned for autographs every day for just being your friend, you git, how could you ever befriend me? How dare you make friends with my younger, more annoying and lonely self!" Hermione gasped jokingly.

Harry laughed and looked at her, "You know I'm serious, right? You deserve happiness."

"I'm happy, really, I swear!" Hermione answered.

She hoped someday soon she might say it and actually believe it.


	10. Chapter of Cracks

**I'm here, giving you another chapter. I'll be back for normal after this month...I swear! I'm on the final stretch for NaNoWriMo, only 6 days left, and I think I'm going to make it! Woohoo!**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter (:**

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><p>"Fred, you need to shut up!" Hermione groaned.<p>

"I'm just saying," Fred commented, running his hands through a bottle of one of Hermione's scarce and few beauty products, "you should take him on a date."

"I'm not taking George on a date! We're not like that and, anyways, he's my _boss_," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Not like a date-date, more like a friend date! You should just do something fun with him to brighten his spirits!"

Fred hummed and started moving around the counter. It seemed like he was almost trying to get used to his body without the fullness it used to hold. Hermione thought it was strange that he would still be getting used to his body when he'd been a ghost for weeks now. She ignored him, though, and continued to stare at herself in the mirror. The one hair that stood up on the top of her head was giving her trouble and she didn't know quite what to do. "Screw it," she muttered and pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail before turning towards the sink in preparation to wash her hands.

"Fred, move your feet out of the sink please," she stated, holding up her hands in the ready. Fred gave her a defiant grin in return.

"Why does it even matter? Your hands can go right through my feet, I'm a _ghost_," he wiggled his toes and stuck out his tongue at her.

"It's still gross, would you please remove your feet from the washbasin?" Hermione replied.

"No, I will _not_ remove my feet from the _washbasin_," Fred spoke in a heavy accent, spiting her.

"Fred," she tested, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Hermione," he joked back.

"Fine, what can I do for you to get your feet out of the sink?" she spoke.

"Go on a friend date with George," he sang.

"Fine, I will, because us_ mature_ folk have to get to work," she responded.

"Okdokey," Fred chimed, swinging his feet out of the sink.

Hermione put her hands in quickly, just in case he changed his mind, and washed them. She turned off the sink and began to walk away.

"So, what are you going to do on your friend date?"

"Nothing," she shrugged.

"Well, that's boring. You should really think of something more fun than _nothing, _like-"

"No, no, no. You misunderstand Fred. I meant nothing as in 'I'm not going on a friend date with George'," she answered with a very-unlike-Hermione smirk.

"What? You promised!"

Holding up her intertwined fingers she said, "I had my fingers crossed, doesn't count. If you act like a child than I'll act like a child in return," she stuck out her tongue.

Hermione rushed down the stairs and heard Fred calling her sneaky from behind. Speedily afterwards, she heard the sound of his disappearing. The sound of a ghost disappearing was harder to explain than the sound of apparition. The apparition sound was a loud crack or pop, whereas a ghost disappearing was more of a clang or clank. She'd probably be able to figure out if a ghost was there or not even _without_ the sound, though. There was an all around presence that she could feel or sense when a ghost was around and it was especially strong with Fred. She didn't know if it had to do with how long he'd been around or how close she had been, and was, with him, but either way it proved helpful.

"Hermione? Is that you?" George called.

"Yea, sorry. I got rather held up because the sink was having-er -issues," she answered.

"It's fine, we just really need to get all these things on the shelf. Our opening is coming fast."

"Yea, when is that again?" Hermione asked as she began to put coughing chews on the shelf, a new addition to the skiving snackboxes.

"A week," he told her, seeming to be almost disappointed that she hadn't remembered herself.

"Ok, hey George?" Hermione questioned innocently.

"Yea Granger?" he responded. Hermione had been annoyed at first when George had called her by her last name, but she soon realized it was a high honor. He only called her that at moments he seemed to be happy, with her was what she expected, and when he called her that it meant that he was fond of her. It was the small signs of one of his biggest old habits: nicknames and name-calling. Harry used to have more than could be counted and George had always wished that he'd been an official part of his family. Ginny was Gin or lil' sis or multiple others and everyone knew how fond George was of her. Being called Granger, she'd realized, was not a bad thing at all.

"You know my favorite food, what's yours?"

"You know, that's like you trying to pick your favorite book," he stated.

"No," she gasped, "that hard?"

"Yup. Mom used to make food for us all the time, still does, and it was always different. You'd think she'd make something that'd be your favorite and then the next day she'd make something ten times better. They were all different, too- family recipes one day and then a Cuban dish she'd read in a cooking magazine the next. If I actually had to pick something she made, I'd say her sandwiches. It sounds stupid, I know, but my mother's sandwiches were the only food Hogwarts' had that weren't at least relatively as good," George explained.

"That sounds amazing," Hermione marveled.

"You didn't have homemade dishes?" he queried.

"Nah. My parents always worked pretty hard and never had time to make really good things. There used to be a few homemade meals every now and then until about the age of six when my aunt got pregnant and needed help supporting her child. After that my parents worked longer hours and there were less good meals. They expected me to eat TV dinners and frozen pizza because they weren't home for dinner a lot. If I wanted something I had to make it myself," Hermione shrugged, thinking about how marvelous Hogwarts' meals had seemed to her. "I barely knew what fresh vegetables tasted like. I think I gained more weight my first month at Hogwarts than I'm willing to admit."

"Well, that's shit," George stated.

Hermione laughed in response and agreed with a nod.

"No wonder you were so pushy. It actually makes quite a lot of sense now," he concluded.

"How so?"

"You had to take care of yourself a lot when you were a kid and you just kept being that way when you came to Hogwarts. Unlike me, because I swear I didn't do homework for a whole month before my mother sent me a howler."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Hermione shook her head.

"What's your most embarrassing moment?"

"Oh easy. I'm not sure you know this, but Seamus Finnegan and I went out once upon a time, and it was _really _embarrassing when he broke up with me and then dated a _boy_ two days later," Hermione told him.

"Wait, he's gay? Actually…that makes a lot of sense. Was it with Dean?"

"No, believe it or not, Adrian Pucey, a _Slytherin._ Dean is actually going out with Luna. I think they might be getting engaged soon because, thought it's cute, it's also rather sickening sometimes to be around them and all their love," she informed George.

"What? How'd that happen?"

"They bonded a lot when they were at shell cottage and got pretty familiar with each other. I guess they officially 'got together' when Luna discovered quite a few sketches of herself in his sketchbook. From what she tells me, they snogged it out pretty hard after that. They've been stuck on each other ever since," Hermione said.

"How did I not know that?" George shook his head in surprise and shock.

"You've been pretty out of it lately."

"Yea, I guess I was," he replied.

"Did you know 7 wizards die from shelves every year on average?" Hermione spoke up.

"Really?" he looked at her surprised.

"Yea, read it in this book called Random Facts for a Random Wizard," she spoke.

"Aha! I had a bet going once with-" he stopped abruptly, "well, anyways, there was this bet and it was to see if you ever read anything that wasn't a school-related-serious-factual book. I won," he told her.

"You won?"

"Yup, I said a person as semi-cool as you had to read stuff that wasn't boring_ sometimes._"

"Semi-cool? Thanks, you toerag," she exclaimed.

"Hey, you had just stopped being as stuck up, it was your fifth year. Give me a break, will you?"

"I guess it's only fair since I thought you were just an immature prankster," Hermione voiced.

"And was I? Just an immature prankster, I mean?"

"No, no you weren't," she smiled.

The mood after that became a lot lighter. They started asking more questions back and forth from varying degrees of seriousness and topic. One second they were talking about their worst fear, and the next who they thought would win in a fight between McGonagall and Flitwick (they both agreed McGonagall). Time seemed to fly by them and lunch came and went suddenly (Hermione took him to a fun restaurant which she would later tell Fred qualified as a friend date). Before they knew it they were working on the last shelf of the day.

"I'm tired, can't we just stop and do it tomorrow?"

"No," George told her seriously. "Tomorrow we have to try to finish the shelves on this level and wall hangings!"

"Merlin forbid we don't get to the wall hangings," Hermione mumbled, sarcasm thickly laced in her voice.

"Heard that."

"Meant to," she sang back in reply.

"Just get up on the step stool and put the fireworks on the top shelf, will you?" George breathed out.

"Why do _I_ have to do it? You could easily reach and put them up there yourself," she pointed out.

"Because I'm your boss," George rolled his eyes. "Now get up there and do it!"

"Don't get shirty, I'll do it," she breathed out (realizing she'd picked up a phrase or two from Oliver's repertoire in the last month or so).

She began placing the fireworks in the order George was telling her. Hermione soon realized he was making her do it because George wanted her to know for future reference where they were all supposed to be so she wouldn't have to learn later on.

"George, I don't think this one is supposed to be up here," Hermione stated, turning quickly on the shaky stepstool.

Several things happened at once: the box hit the floor, fireworks exploded from said box, and Hermione fell right on top of George, bringing both of them to the ground. George let out a loud 'oomph' and Hermione a small 'sorry'. She rolled off of him and looked over at George.

"Thanks for being a good cushion," Hermione said.

"Anytime," George groaned.

"What were those?"

"You were right, they weren't supposed to be there. They're a prototype for a firework I've been working on that starts when you throw them against something hard and won't be quite as harmful. Look up," George requested.

The two of them lied together and looked up at the fireworks that were displayed above them. Hermione moved closer and closer as George explained the length to currently be the problem, seeing as they went on for quite some time. She nodded and told him he'd get it soon, yawned, and said it was a lovely light show anyhow. He thanked her and rested his cheek on the top of her head.

It took Hermione by surprise when he started crying into her hair. George's crying wasn't very loud at first; the only reason she knew was because she could feel his tears. Hermione turned towards him and grabbed him closer. His body began convulsing and shaking and his silent tears became loud sobs. The sound that was leaving George reminded Hermione a bit of how Mrs. Weasley had sounded at first in the Great Hall leaning over Fred's body, just minus the sharpness. Where Mrs. Weasley's scream had been one of someone who had just realized and been hit with the news and couldn't take it, George's were softer but equally as terrifying; it sounded of someone who had known for some time of a horrible death and had pain unmanageable. It was pain that couldn't be contained and had only been growing stronger and stronger inside of George.

As George cried and bawled like she'd seen far too many people do lately, she began to cry herself. So many lost…how had everyone expected to live in such a place after all those deaths? It wasn't easy now and it hadn't been easy then, before the war, and Hermione realized she just wanted easy. She was done with death and the despair that came with it. For once she didn't want something to be challenging, if the answers were easily in sight she'd be happy. Hermione wanted simple.

When the crying slowed down, from both parties, Hermione pulled herself up and offered a hand to George. He took it and was pulled up reluctantly. She talked him into going upstairs with a warm cup of tea. George merely nodded in response with a little hiccup.

She sat him down and put the pot on the stove. Hermione sat down next to George and grabbed his hand, leaning her head on his shoulder. She looked up at his face and saw his eyes closed and his face showing the troubling thoughts he must have been feeling. Seeing his face, it made her think of the thoughts that still troubled her, the things that kept her up at night and plagued her nightmares. Lavender lying with Fenrir eating her neck; Colin Creevey, so small he didn't even need two people to carry him; Lupin and Tonks, hands inches apart; and Mrs. Weasley screaming over Fred Weasley's body.

The whistle for the pot went off and Hermione stood up quickly, noticing how George's eyes snapped open.

"I've got to use the loo," George mumbled, getting up and shuffling towards the bathroom.

_He's probably just embarrassed_, Hermione thought. _George just must be afraid of what will happen now to our relationship because of him crying so much in front of me. He really shouldn't be-_

CRACK!

An earful of cracks and falling glass hit Hermione's ears. She stood up; knocking the chair over in her hast, and ran towards the bathroom. As she got to the bathroom she saw George, hands coated in blood and yelling as he hit the mirror, trying to break it up as much as possible.

"Go away! Go away!" he yelled.

"George, please, George," Hermione called, trying to pull him away. "You're George!"

He turned to her with the last phrase spoken and grabbed onto her, accidentally pulling both of them towards the ground.

"Why is he there? Why is he always there?" George belted, screaming in agony.

"Sh…it's only you, George, you're only you," Hermione amended, holding him close to herself as he convulsed in anger and sadness.

Just as Hermione held onto George she felt Fred in the doorway, she imagined the look of shock that must be there, but she didn't turn around. George deserved her attention, all of it.

Fred looked and took everything in, the way Hermione whispered into George's hair, how he held onto Hermione as if she was his only anchor, the broken and bloody mirror, the piece of glass sticking into the side of Hermione's body that she was ignoring, and George's mangled hand. There was vulnerability here, so much of it and pain too. There was pain, so much that he never knew. He had never known about how much pain was in these two people and it scared him.

This time, as Hermione glared at Fred to leave, he didn't need to be told twice before he disappeared.

He didn't even need to be told once.


	11. Chapter of Quiet Conversations

**I have finished NaNoWriMo and I am back to y'all now! I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>George stared at the ceiling of Hermione's bedroom in complete shock. He couldn't believe he'd actually exploded like that, first because of a bloody firework and then his own reflection. It wouldn't have been all that bad if she hadn't been there. Actually, he corrected himself in his head; it was probably a lot better that she was there. If Hermione hadn't been there he wouldn't have known exactly how to get through it. Yet again he owed Hermione Granger and he didn't know how to repay the favor.<p>

Movement to his left informed him that she was still awake as well. George was so tempted to turn towards Hermione and see what she looked like. Was she upset too? Or maybe she looked tired, really tired. Possibly thinking? He didn't have any idea and it confused him; mostly why he was even curious in the first place. The most likely solution was that she was probably just shifting in her sleep and not even awake, plagued by thoughts like him.

He turned anyhow, not even sure why. It wasn't one of those moments where he had to force the use of his Gryffindor courage or talk through the pros and cons (a skill he had most definitely picked up from Hermione Granger). It had been one of his impulsive moments, done right when thought before he could back out. Hermione's face was staring straight back at his, eyes open and alert.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly.

"Yea?" she yawned.

"When you look a- never mind."

"What?" she persisted.

"When you look at me," George stopped and breathed in deeply, "who do you see?"

Hermione noticed. How he said who and not what. How he couldn't look at her and meet her eyes. How he couldn't say it emotionlessly no matter how hard it seemed he was attempting to. Just by looking at him Hermione could tell he hadn't wanted to ask it, not really. The only reason he had was because he needed to know, and though he was curious, it had to do with more than that.

George was starting to think that maybe Hermione was the only person who could stand to be around him. Everywhere he looked he saw those eyes. The eyes of someone seeing someone else, the pity, the sadness, and, honestly, he didn't think he could take it everywhere anymore. He wanted one person to be able to look past him and see someone that wasn't Fred and he wanted to know if it was Hermione.

"George, I see you," Hermione shook her head as if it was the stupidest question in the world. She moved his head and made it look straight at her. "You're not Fred. He was your twin and I miss him and, goodness, is it clear that you miss him, but you're not him. You may look like him, but I'd never look at you and see him. You're so clearly you George and I know a lot of people look at you and see someone else, but it's because they aren't looking close enough. They're looking _at_ you, but they're not looking at _you."_

"I'm pretty sure you're the only person who could have said that and made it sound intelligent," George mumbled.

"Go to sleep George, you need to sleep," Hermione whispered.

"Sweet dreams Granger," George spoke after a minute or so of silence.

With a slight smile spreading on her lips she answered.

"Sweet dreams George."

* * *

><p>"Fred, I was sleeping. What do you need?" Hermione yawned.<p>

"What happened? Are you all right? No, is _he_allright?" Fred rushed, pacing back and forth through the kitchen.

"Oh, thanks for caring so much about me," Hermione bit back.

"Hermione."

"He's fine, well, as fine as he can be," she stated, crossing her arms.

Hermione stared at Fred and saw he was scared and worried, but she couldn't help feeling _angry _with him. It was an anger that boiled in her stomach and couldn't be pushed back. The kind of anger that no matter how unreasonable she told herself it was and how much she tried to skate over just seemed to keep popping up. It seemed to run through her brains and crackle through her hair with electricity. Cross, irate, mad, annoyed…_angry._

"Ok, what now? What did I do this time?" Fred threw up his hands.

"Nothing, you didn't do anything. Now I'm tired, if I could go back to bed that would be really nice. I don't want George to wake up and fi-" Hermione babbled while attempting to get as far away from Fred as she could.

"Wow," Fred gasped.

"What?" she snapped, turning around.

"Hermione Granger is seriously, rightfully pissed. You're not mad in a Fred-and-George-are-trying-out-products-on-first-years kind of way where you secretly think it is somewhat endearing-"

"Did not!"

"-but you, Hermione Granger, are livid, aren't you? Why, though?" Fred walked around her.

"Fred, I just want to sleep," she pleaded.

"No, you just want to get away from me," he responded.

"Please leave me alone," she whispered tightly.

"No, not until you tell me-" Fred answered before his talking was interrupted by a glass cup on the counter exploding. "Uncontrolled magic? You honestly must be really mad if a witch of your caliber-"

"Shut up- SHUT UP!" Hermione yelled.

"Woah, Hermione, I didn't mean-"

"You didn't mean? Huh? You wanted to know and you better listen up because I'm not repeating it," she spoke quieter now. It was far scarier, Fred decided, because of the anger held in her quiet words and piercing eyes.

"Ok, ok, sorry, I-"

"Sorry? SORRY? How dare you, you idiotic git. What were you thinking? What _the_ _fuck_ were you thinking?"

"Hermione, the f word, wow, I didn-"

"How could you? How could you have been so stupid because I know you aren't stupid Fred, you are anything but that," Hermione cried, her voice pitchy and emotional, a few stray tears running down her cheeks. "You couldn't have laughed and looked at Rookwood at the same time? How about levitation? You learned that in DA or that slow-down spell I showed you? Seriously, how could you have not _thought?_ You have the _audacity_ to leave us here?"

"Calm down, I don't want George to wak-"

"Calm down? Calm down? I'm not even sure he does sleep anymore Fred, because you _left_ him Fred. How could you leave him here all alone? I hate you so much. I hate you for leaving me and him and your family and Angelina-"

"You think I wanted to go? Yea, Hermione, I just jumped under that rock and made sure I didn't have my wand in my hand so that I could _die._ Use your brains you stupid prat. You think I want to see Angelina, the love of my life, off with Lee? Or Katie engaged and knowing that I won't be a part of the wedding party? How about knowing that I can't make jokes about Harry and Ron, a couple I've actually been thinking would happen since their 6th year? Yes, Hermione, I wanted to leave my brother, my _twin_, all on his own out there. I just _love_ seeing him suffer and chewed up in grief. My mother barely being able to look at him, Percy becoming a drunk because he thinks it's _his _fault. I can't kick Harry's ass for breaking up with Ginny and I can't- I can't- I can't do _anything," _Fred cried out in anger, resolving down do a upset quiet as his words tapered off.

"Fred, Fred…I'm just so- _so- tired. _I'm angry because I don't know what to do and you're supposed to be here and without you nothing seems right anymore_," _Hermione succumbed to tears. "Seeing you is wonderful and sad and I'm so mad and I don't know what to do about it. Fred, I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you here. I'm trying but I just _don't know anything."_

Hermione sank to the ground and gasped for breath, banging the floor in anger. Fred sat down next to her, breathing heavily and wrapping his arms around his knees. "Aren't we the pair?" he stated, "I can't do anything and you don't know anything."

"Yea," she chocked, shaking her head slightly, "_quite_ the pair."

"You know, I'm really pissed about being dead," Fred broke the silence.

"Yea…I know, Fred. Me too," Hermione responded.

"You should probably get back to bed. If I'm correct you have work tomorrow," Fred stated, standing up. For a second he looked as if he was going to offer his hand before remembering that everything went right through him.

"Actually, I have work _today. _I am _knackered_," Hermione yawned.

"Yea, I think you may have mentioned that," Fred whispered.

"Goodnight Fred," she rolled her eyes and walked back into her room.

Fred watched her go, muttering quietly to himself after she was so far gone she knew she wouldn't even hear him. "Sleep tight, Hermione."


	12. Chapter of Realizations

**Hi! I didn't intend for it to take a week to post, but life is busy. I'm sure you guys understand! Enjoy!**

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><p>George couldn't remember ever feeling like a pansy before. He'd chosen to live a life with no regrets at a young age. If he wanted to do something, he did it. There wasn't even a moment he would take back if he could, or at least he couldn't remember one. But as he stood in Hermione's room, pacing, he felt like a pansy for the first time in his entire life.<p>

"George, you coming out?" Hermione said.

George didn't know how she even knew he was up, but he suddenly felt stupid. It was only Hermione out there, why would he feel stupid? Probably because of everything that went on yesterday, logically. Mostly it had to do with that ridiculous question he had asked last night: when you look at me who do you see? It was just the mix of tiredness and emotion that pushed him to it, he guessed.

"George, your mother is going to be upset if we're late," Hermione called through the door.

"Wait, wait, wait…" George replied as he walked out, all reservations he previously had vanished. "My mother's? We're working today."

"I told her we'd come. Do we really need to work today?" she answered.

"Since when do you make decisions for us as a 'we'?" George questioned.

"Since you were sleeping and your mother fire-called. A lot of people are coming over today to go swimming and hang out. She said she needed a little help and she wanted us to come," Hermione answered.

"Hermione, we open _really _soon," George pointed out.

"She's making us lunch and dinner. If you get there soon there will probably still be something left from breakfast," she batted her eyelashes, knowing full well the effect food had on the Weasley's.

"Ok, let's go," He replied eagerly.

"George, pants," she pointed out, looking down pointedly. Looking down himself, George noticed the fact that he was only wearing boxers. Blushing slightly, he rushed back into the room to Hermione's giggles.

* * *

><p>"Hermione, George! I'm so glad you two could come!" Mrs. Weasley cheered.<p>

"Of course, and look! There are still some peanut butter biscuits from breakfast," George smiled, already grabbing one and helping himself.

"So what do you need help with?" Hermione questioned kindly.

"If you two could help the others de-gnome the garden that would be lovely. Why don't you stay and chat for a bit first. How has living together been?" she voiced.

"I can't complain, George makes good breakfasts," Hermione smiled cheerily.

"How are you sleeping? That crazy ceiling keeping you up?"

"Surprisingly, no."

"Fred had been so adamant about it. Wouldn't listen to any reason," Molly said.

She looked sadly at the dishes she was currently scrubbing. Hermione could tell her eyes were beginning to water and George looked uncomfortable beyond belief.

"I forgot, I have to go ask Harry a time sensitive question. Do you think we could continue this chat later Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione broke the silence and grabbed George, pulling him up and to the door.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley mumbled, still lost in thought.

"What do you have to ask Harry?" George spoke once they were on the lawn walking to the garden.

"Nothing, I just- I didn't know what to say because you looked uncomfortable and she looked so sad," Hermione shrugged.

"Oh, well, thanks. You ready to wrangle some gnomes?" he answered.

"Sure thing. Hey Ginny!" Hermione greeted.

"Hey Hermione."

"What are those two gits doing down there at the other end of the garden?" George asked.

"Bickering like an old married couple, that's what," Ginny grumbled to them. "I can tell you what they're not doing, too! They're not de-gnoming the garden."

"Well, we're here to help now," Hermione offered.

"Uh, where were you 20 minutes ago?" Ginny mumbled loudly.

"Sorry," George shrugged. "Bill's here. I think I'll go say hi. I'm sure, Hermione, that the absence of my charming and attractive presence will upset you, but a-"

"Oh, go away, you prat," Hermione smiled, slapping him on the arm jokingly.

Once George had walked away. Hermione turned to see Ginny gaping at her. Hermione looked at her with a 'what?' kind of expression on her face.

"He just joked with you," she gasped.

"Yea, he does that," Hermione shrugged.

"A lot?"

"No, every once in a while, mostly when we're working or sleeping together," Hermione babbled. After realizing exactly what she'd said and wishing with every ounce of her body she could take it back, she looked over at Ginny. Her face transformed from one of surprise to disgust.

"Ew!" she jumped up, screaming. "Images, images, I think I'm going to vomit. You do that?"

"Ginny, calm down! It's not what you're thinking," Hermione urged upon seeing the curious faces turning towards them.

"Oh my god, oh my god!" she squealed.

"Ginny!" she scolded. Hermione pulled her to the ground and covered her mouth. "Not sexually!"

"Ok, good," Ginny calmed herself, kicking Hermione off of her.

"Why in the world did you react so strongly?" Hermione demanded.

"I think it's just the way you said it. If came out so guiltily and then your face and these images, yuck, I don't need to imagine my brother like that," Ginny explained. "Could you tell me how you slept together, then?"

"He was just sad and didn't want to sleep alone. It only happens every once in a while, it's just- Ginny, he gets so sad and I don't know what in the world to do!" Hermione told her.

"Oh, you intelligent girl, you can be so _thick_," Ginny smiled and shook her head, leaning towards her. "I don't know of anyone but you who could make him feel so much better. When he was here at the Burrow, all he did was sit around and sulk. He made conversation, but you could tell his heart wasn't in it, and, well, you were here Hermione. You saw it all. Angelina should have been there, she was stupid to accept Lee's date request so suddenly, and she's nice, but it was so _selfish_. She accepted it to try to make herself forget when she should have tried to move on at the same as George, _with_ George."

"You really think so?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes, I do," she leaned back on her arms.

"Is she coming here today?" Hermione replied, trying to get comfortable as well.

"Yes, actually. Somehow all these random people got invited, which is why we're probably going to have to help mum cook later."

"By random, you mean…?"

"Angelina and Lee, possibly Katie. I think McGonagall and Kingsley are, all the family, and Andromeda with Teddy. I think Oliver Wood might even show up," Ginny answered.

"Are they going to stop by to swim?"

"I think some are," Ginny shrugged.

"You guys going to come down to the lake?" Charlie yelled, walking by in his swimming suit.

"Yea! We just halfta change!" Ginny yelled back.

Hermione and Ginny walked speedily up to Ginny's room and made quick work of changing. Thoughts filled Hermione's mind as she looked at Ginny. How could she look so effortlessly fine? Harry broke up with her days ago, her friends were dead, her _brother, _how did she do it? Sadness and guiltiness filled her almost all of the time and she felt like it could be seen on her at all times.

"How do you do it?' Hermione burst out, blushing slightly for actually saying it aloud

"Do what?' Ginny questioned, slipping on her sandals and grabbing a towel.

"You look so happy," Hermione commented.

"I am," Ginny nodded. "You just have to think about what you've got. We're about to go swim with family and friends that love me. We're going to eat some good meals and have some good laughs, how can I possibly find fault in that?" Ginny shrugged.

"Well, wasn't that touching," Fred joked with a slight smirk on his freckled face. Hermione whipped her head around and stared at him, stumbling a bit form moving so quickly. A loud bang resonated around the room as Hermione slipped to the ground and Fred laughed boisterously. Ginny quickly made her way to her side

"Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost and you just slipped!"

"I'm fine, just startled. I thought I saw something over in the corner," Hermione chuckled nervously, sending a glare at the still smirking Fred.

"Well, you ready to go?" Ginny stood and brushed herself off.

"Um, actually, I wanted to- I'll meet you outside," Hermione rambled.

"Ok," she drawled, looking at her strangely but not saying anything. She left the room and shut the door before Hermione turned to Fred, glaring at him.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"I thought we agreed no sneaking up on me!"

"No, you suggested it and I jut nodded in understanding. I never _agreed_ to anything," Fred shrugged mischievously.

"You are insufferable!" Hermione bit back.

"It's why you keep me around," Fred shrugged.

"No, you are still around because you refuse to move on and choose to, instead, annoy the living daylights out of me. You'll be much happier when you move on Fred, I swear it, so go along-"

"Yadda, yadda, yadda, Granger. I can see how much you need me around, why would I leave you when you so clearly need me," he smiled.

"In your dreams Fred Weasley," she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Of course in my dreams-"

"Oh! I get why you're around!" Hermione smirked slightly, shaking her head at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You want to see Angelina."

"Is it so bad to want to check up on her? She's the girl I wanted to marry someday, I can't _not_ make sure she's ok!" Fred persisted.

"It is bad, Fred. Wizards who stay too long and get obsessed with their loved ones tend to want to stay, and when they want to stay-"

"They turn into actual ghosts, like Nearly Headless Nick," Fred finished.

"Yes," Hermione affirmed. "Once I found out I could see dead people, I went and talked to Nearly Headless Nick…" she trailed off.

"And?"

"And it's not good. When a larger portion of you wants to stay than wants to go, or in your case, _eventually_ go, they turn into what Nick is. Nick hasn't ever heard of a way to get out of it, he's stuck. He said it's horrible: growing fond of all those students and then watching them leave and grow up and die. You're bound to watch your loved ones become happy without you and sometime die, never being able to see them again because they were braver and chose _true _death," Hermione explained.

"So I shouldn't go see Angelina?"

"No, Fred, you really shouldn't." Hermione admitted, smiling sadly.

"You should go, Ginny's probably looking for you…" Fred said cheerlessly: avoiding her eyes.

"Yea," Hermione spoke, moving toward the door, "I probably should."


	13. Chapter of Admissions

"Oh dear, would you mind cutting those carrots?" Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen.

"Of course not," Hermione answered.

"Looks like Andromeda just arrived, I should go say hi. Keep watching on that pot, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley stated before hastily exiting the kitchen.

"That woman can be crazy in a kitchen," Ginny sighed, putting rolls in the oven.

Hermione nodded in agreement before turning back to the carrots she was cutting. In all honesty, she didn't mind being in the kitchen that much. After all day of swimming and conversing, she was beginning to feel the strain and lethargy set in. A break from everyone didn't sound so bad to her, though she supposed Ginny would much rather be playing in the Quidditch game that was taking place.

"Hey ladies," Oliver popped into the kitchen, looking ready to play a game of Quidditch himself. "Where's everyone?"

"Out by the Quidditch pitch in back," Hermione answered him.

"Thanks. Hey Ginny, I heard about your job proposition from Holyhead Harpies. You think you're going to take it?"

"Wait! You got a job proposition?" Hermione turned to her friend.

"Yea," Ginny blushed. "I didn't want anyone to sway my opinion, so I wasn't going to mention it until I was sure."

"Oops, didn't mean to spill the beans. Being on a Quidditch team myself means I'm privy to all sorts of information," Oliver said in his heavy Scottish accent.

"No, it's no big deal," she shrugged.

"No big deal? You'll be the youngest on the team and best, I reckon. Don't tell my teammates, because they'll never let me live it down, but I'd be a tad bit scared to face you lot," he replied, continuing despite her fierce blush. "You going to join in the game?"

"I would, but I have to help with some of the cooking," she answered.

"Shame, though it's probably for the best since you'd make the teams so uneven. Got to keep the playing field even, you know," he smiled. "See you guys later."

"Bye Oliver," Ginny waved.

Feeling eyes on her, Ginny turned towards Hermione. After seeing the look Hermione was giving her she instantly got defensive.

"What?"

"Bye Oliver," Hermione mimicked in a high, breathy tone.

"I do not sound like that!" she protested.

"You honestly did. He was flirting with you and you were flirting back!"

"Was not! When do you even make fun of people? You've been spending too much time with George," Ginny denied and blamed.

Hermione didn't feel the need to point out that George honestly didn't 'joke' and 'mock' very often like she seemed to believe he did. If she knew what really happened most of the time, Hermione assumed she would be rather surprised. George seemed rather fine, clearly, to most of his family. This was not the case. He went off by himself often, had long gaps of staring of into space, troubling nightmares, and usually when he smiled he seemed to grimace right afterwards because he didn't believe he was allowed to. The amount of time George joked when they were together was actually feeling like a very small percentage of late.

Hermione shook her head to herself and went back to Ginny and her conversation. It wouldn't do to break the happy mood Ginny had because she seemed to believe that George was far more all right than he clearly was.

"Completely besides the point. Me thinks it was a flirt," Hermione smiled, hitting her shoulder with Ginny's. Ginny just shrugged in response and smiled.

Then it hit her, the realization that Hermione had felt bubbling in her stomach since Oliver entered the room. Oliver had a soft spot for the youngest Weasley and in return she had one for him. It made sense, seeing as they both had similar dispositions and humor, not to forget their love of Quidditch. The only problem Hermione could see was the age difference, but even that wasn't too horrible.

Ginny might be finding that 'happy ending' far sooner than she thought. Hermione knew she should be happy for her, but for some reason she couldn't help feeling a little resentful. Maybe she was just jealous, yes, that must be it. In this crazy, crazy world they were living in Hermione just wanted something like that. A happiness that felt far more tangible than the one she had. Realizing exactly how whiny she sounded, not just now but in the last few weeks, Hermione decided that she would be supportive and happy for Ginny if it killed her.

A bang erupted from the door and Hermione snapped up to see Charlie. He looked slightly tousled and sweaty from the game and didn't look a bit uncomfortable about it. The smell of the cookies that had just left the oven must have called to him, because he walked over and reached for one. His attempt was halted by Ginny's hand, which slapped down on his. Their moment was broken as Mrs. Weasley marched in.

"Oh, there you are Charlie! I need you and Hermione to set up the tables outside please."

"No Bill?" Charlie questioned.

"He's fussing with Teddy right now," she replied.

"By the way Gin, if you go right now you might be able to steal my Quidditch spot from Lee," Charlie suggested.

Ginny looked over at her mother, pleading. In response, Mrs. Weasley attempted to stare her down before resolving with a small, "Fine." It took no time at all for Ginny to rush out of the room and Charlie and Hermione both soon followed.

"So you'd rather have Bill than set up tables with me, little ol' Hermione?" she fluttered her eyelashes at Charlie.

"No, don't twist my words Hermione!" he chuckled deeply.

Getting to work on the tables, silence reigned. She eyed the way he worked. He had a steadiness, a purposefulness that set her at ease. Unlike the craziness the twins used to complete tasks or the perfectionism she tended to opt for, he did it somewhere in between. He worked in a way she knew she could trust and didn't look bad doing it. The silence continued as she slowly realized she was somewhat ogling him and Hermione decided to break the quiet that had settled around them.

"Did you quit your job back in Romania? Or are you just on leave?" she questioned, making conversation.

"Just a leave. I miss my dragons, but there's so much here tempting me to stay," he replied.

"Like?"

"My mom's cooking?" he attempted to joke, getting a small smile from her. "My family, I don't particularly fancy just leaving George when he's still so upset, I mean, we're _all_ upset. I have friends here and, well, I guess I missed it here a bit," he shrugged.

"What would you do?"

"Word on the street is that Hagrid might be giving up his teaching position for Madame Maxime. I could apply for the position."

"I'd reckon some of those hormonal teenagers would be just as bad as dragons," she laughed, causing him to smiled.

"What about you Hermione?"

"I'm working in the shop right now," Hermione answered.

"Why'd you suggest that? I mean to say, why'd you offer yourself up when George needed help? None of us quite expected you in a joke shop…"

"I don't know, I guess- well- I didn't really know what I wanted to do anymore and…"

"And?" he prompted.

"And I couldn't just let that dream die: Fred and George's. It's just so- I guess I figured, honestly, that if that dream died, a little bit of everyone would die with it," Hermione explained to him.

Charlie looked at her, a look that finally made Hermione understand what Ginny had been talking about after Harry had broken up with her. He seemed to see her, but his gaze made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Almost like he could see every inch of her, from the slight dreariness around her eyes to the cut on her waist that was hidden by her clothing. Fidgeting slightly, she tried to return the gaze and, by doing so, broke him out of whatever trance he'd been in.

"Hermione, I'm not good with words. I actually prefer dragons and action to them; it's always my first choice. The thing is, you're a nice gal, a real nice one, incredibly intelligent, and fiercely brave. I'd like to take you on a date if you don't mind," Charlie spoke.

Gaping, Hermione looked him over. Was he serious? It was true that for a majority of her life she'd thought she'd marry a Weasley, but it definitely wasn't the Weasley in front of her she'd had in mind. Looking into his eyes she could tell he was nothing but genuine with his request. He was honestly asking her out on a date and she had no idea why.

"Sure," she answered, spitting the answer out before she could even truly contemplate it. "I'd like that."

"How about Friday?" he smiled.

"Fine with me, actually, no it's not. Friday's the opening party Ginny and I have been planning for the shop. I can't miss that and neither can you!"

"Saturday then?"

"I think that'll work. I'll owl you to confirm it," Hermione answered.

"Great, great timing too: here they come now."

Sure enough, a large pack of people entered over the hill. Joyful laughter and boisterous vocals filled the once quiet landscape. Hermione looked over to see George studying the pair and became slightly disgruntled. It wasn't hard for her to tell that he also looked dead uncomfortable. Being around all these people, some of them not being able to look at him without tearing up, some with a completely different name on their tongue when they looked at you, and some trying to act like it was normal when it was so clearly _not,_ had taken its toll on George.

Wishing Charlie farewell, she walked back into the kitchen to Mrs. Weasley.

"Levitate these out there for me dear," Mrs. Weasley asked in her tone that really wasn't asking at all.

Exiting the door with her levitated food in front of her, Hermione was hit on all sides by the noise. The table was fuller than she'd ever seen before. Friends of all kinds sat around it, mixed within the ranks of the Weasley's. Seconds before she'd been worrying about how to choose a seat, but she realized that concern could be flushed down the toilet. Only several seats were left vacant, the majority of which were down towards the more 'adult' end. Seeing an empty seat beside George cinched the deal and she swapped up the seat before anyone else could take it.

Across form Hermione was Ginny and, not surprisingly, Oliver Wood as well. Hermione knew she hadn't been making it up when she thought something was between them. Bumping George's shoulder, Hermione looked pointedly towards the two. George only looked confused and Hermione shook her head, turning to Mrs. Weasley who had stood up to speak.

"I usually don't say anything because I know how everyone tends to be, but I just wanted to thank everyone for coming," she announced.

"Thank us? Mrs. Weasley, all you have to do is make food and I'll be here anytime," Lee chuckled, many joining in.

"Thank you Lee. Well, tuck in everyone!"

"Hold on!" Ron yelled, interrupting everyone's outstretched hands that were reaching for food. "I need to say someone. Now- uh- the thing is that- um- I love someone. Yea- I- uh- do and they told me that they can't be in a relationship unless it's out in the open," he continued.

Hermione snuck a glance over at Harry and noticed how flustered he seemed. There was a look, though, a look in his eyes that said how very much this meant to him. Putting her eyes back on the very, _very _flustered Ron, she tuned back in. He fidgeted and then continued.

"I don't really fancy telling everyone here, I mean, it took me 7 years just to admit I _had_ feelings for Hermione-"

"I bloody kissed _him_," Hermione mumbled angrily, eliciting small chuckles from George.

"-anyways. Harry, I love you and you can know that, you all can know that, the world can bloody know that because I don't care anymore. I just want you to be my boyfriend. So I- uh- guess that's- that's everything…" Ron trailed off nervously. Sitting himself down ungracefully he turned to Harry, looking for a response.

Harry nodded, blushing, and said a small, "yea."

Looking around at everyone at the table, she couldn't help but smile. Of course everyone had been confused when Ron stood up. It was out of character for him to be that forward, but Hermione supposed it just showed how much he loved him. Speaking of another thing, _him_. Everyone's faces had been even more confused when it was Harry's name, but they took it in stride. Claps and cheers had erupted over the entire table and Mrs. Weasley might have been the most excited of everyone.

"That was what you knew, wasn't it? When you said you were a horrible friend for not figuring it out," George whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she replied, surprised. "You're a lot more clever than people give you credit for."

"Naw, just observant, you didn't look surprised during his speech at all while the rest of us were pretty damn surprised."

"Right," Hermione nodded. "You think your mother will mind?"

"Hell no," he answered back immediately. "As long as he's an official member of the Weasley clan, she could care less."

"Oliver, how are you and Alicia doing?" Mrs. Weasley spoke over the table.

"We- uh- actually broke up a few months or so ago," he answered awkwardly.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. You and Ginny have something to talk about, though, seeing as Harry broke up with her recently," Mrs. Weasley cheerfully replied before turning to Professor McGonagall to talk.

"Thanks for bringing that up Mum," Ginny mumbled.

"I'm sure you figured, though," George directed towards Oliver.

"Huh?" he replied.

"You knew that her and Harry were broken up, I mean Harry just accepted my brother's request to be his boyfriend," George chuckled.

"I suppose you're right," Oliver answered. "Otherwise it would be a little bit strange…"

"A little bit?" Ginny exclaimed, bursting into laughter followed by Hermione, George, and Oliver.

After the laughter subsided, Oliver turned to Ginny. They began discussing her job proposition and George clearly tuned out. Hermione took a chance to look around her a little more and noticed what she'd said to Fred about Angelina was a good thing. She was clearly all over Lee. Whether they were really in love or just finding salvation in the other, Hermione didn't really know.

Suddenly a thought struck her. Were her and George really any different? What if they were just doing the same thing? Forcing some kind of friendship that really wouldn't have existed organically to find some kind of safety and security they both clearly needed. Even if they were, was it such a bad thing? They weren't in endless depression or participating in harmful activities because of it. The only thing that really bothered her was the friendship. Were they really friends?

Not really wanting to dwell on it further, she turned to the man her thoughts currently centered around.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

"About what?" he responded.

"Your sister and Wood," she shrugged.

"My sister and what?" he gasped. George flung his head toward the two and looked for some clue to what Hermione was talking about. Looking like he was about to stand up and do something, he spoke, "What is he doing with my sister?"

"Nothing!" Hermione screeched, pushing him from his half-standing position back into his chair. "They've only talked for the first time since the Battle, how could they?"

"You said…" he trailed off.

"I said what _do_ you think about it, no reason for you to go acting like Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can't have that, can we?" he laughed lightly. "I suppose she could be with worse blokes."

"Ok, get prepared for it because it _will_ happen."

"Excuse me? How can you know something like that?"

"I just _do._ It's this best friend/girl thing," she attempted to explain.

"Feel like making a wager?" he proposed.

"Of course. I say they will," she stuck her hand out.

"And I say they won't. We can work the finer details out later," he shook her hand.

"Ok, but I expect to be rewarded with the shop when I win," Hermione nodded seriously, a joking smile touching the corners of her lips.

"Not bloody likely," he scoffed.

"We'll see," she returned, smiling kindly and looking at him. He shook his head in response and plopped more sweet potatoes on his plate. Ignoring Hermione indignations on how he only took the part with the marshmallows on them, he turned to Charlie on his other side. A small look between Charlie and Hermione was not missed, however, and George wondered what exactly was going on.

He _would_ get to the bottom of this.


	14. Chapter of Lectures

**Merry Christmas! Or Happy Christmas! Or Happy Hanukkah! Or Kwanza! Or...I'm running out of holidays.**

**Happy Holidays!**

**Much better.**

**This is my present for all of you and I hope you enjoy it. I hope you are having a great holiday (:**

* * *

><p>"Where are the plates? I know for sure there were plates around here somewhere," Ginny panicked.<p>

"You set them on the counter, remember? You know, you get a lot like your mother when you're doing things like this. It's rather scary actually," Hermione replied, setting the last streamer up.

"Thank you and shut up," she barked back, going from grateful to defensive in mere seconds.

Hermione chuckled slightly and tried to stop the yawn she felt coming. Her attempt at preventing it was unsuccessful and she could hear Ginny groan in the aisle next to her.

"Just go nap or something. You've been yawning like crazy," Ginny said.

"No, no, I'm fine. There's still plenty of work to be done and we have to finish it all before the party," she protested.

George and Hermione had worked like madmen to get all of their work done. Many a late night had been spent in the last few days trying to get every detail correct for the shop's opening. More hours awake had been spent than asleep and it was starting to take its toll, but she just reminded herself how it would all be worth it come Monday when the shop would open.

Waiting until Monday seemed a shame, though, in Hermione's opinion. The shop already looked beautiful. All the shelves were perfectly lined with products, the counter looked impeccable, and all the things that were meant to whiz and fly about were ready to be set off. The shop looked so very much like 'the shop' that it almost hurt to look around.

"Ok, I think we have everything ready. You should go get ready," Ginny offered.

"What about the food?"

"It's all covered. Harry's picking up the food from Wizard's Plus and mum is dropping of some things because she can't stand the fact that she's not 'contributing'," Ginny explained. "Everything is ready. Now go get beautiful."

"Fine, fine," Hermione amended. She reluctantly walked up the stairs and glanced at the task ahead of her.

It wasn't that it was that difficult a challenge, her hair had tamed down slightly and she'd gained experience on how to efficiently tame it. The main issue was trying to find a suitable outfit in her limited wardrobe. Dressing up was as enjoyable to her as any other girl, but she still didn't want to spend time on getting ready when she was as tired as she currently was.

Walking past the kitchen, she grabbed a quick apple and continued on her way. Only when she passed George and Fred's old room did she break her stride. There on Fred's bed sat George, staring off into space.

"George? You ok?" Hermione spoke reluctantly. Unaffected by her words, Hermione spoke again. "George?"

George snapped out of it all at once. Looking bewildered as to where he was exactly, he turned toward the disturbance that had woken him from his thoughts.

"Oh- hey Hermione."

"What are you doing, George?" she questioned tentatively, walking over to the bed and sitting beside him.

"I- I was tired and thought that if, maybe, I laid down in here I'd be able to fall asleep, but I- it just feels so loud in here."

"Why don't I lie down with you? I'm pretty tired myself," Hermione offered.

George nodded and stood up, moving to the side of the bed. Hermione set her apple down and went to his side. The covers were pulled back and Hermione tumbled into the bed after George. They tried to settle themselves into a comfortable position, a hard task because of the size of the bed. Moving a little closer to each other, they found comfort and tried to fall asleep.

"I can feel him, you know," George said. "Not like a ghost or something, but here it's strong. Almost everywhere I look I have some kind of memory. I can't get away from the memory of him, Hermione, it feels like he's following me," George paused and sighed. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?'

"No," Hermione shook her head and looked at another redhead, one who had just silently appeared in the doorway before awkwardly leaving. "I don't."

* * *

><p>A loud knocking on the door to the flat was what woke them both up. Hermione sprang up and looked at her and George, a tangled mass of limbs. George opened his eyes next and pulled his hand off her waist with a small smirk upon noticing how flustered Hermione seemed.<p>

"George, Hermione! The party's starting but we need you two down here before we can officially begin," Ginny yelled through the door.

"Don't worry. I'm just putting on the finishing touch to my outfit. We'll be down in a minute!" Hermione belted back. Once she couldn't hear the retreating footsteps any longer, she jumped up and went to George's closet.

"Put on these jeans and this shirt," Hermione instructed, throwing clothes at him and running to her room.

"I've been dressing myself for over ten years I'll have you know!" George called after her.

"Just put on the bloody shirt!"

Hermione hastily put on a pair of her nicest jeans and a shirt Ginny had once called cute. Going to the bathroom she tried to comb her air with no luck and ended up braiding it to the side in frustration. Deciding that it was as good as it was going to get, she went to see how George was doing.

"You ready to go?" Hermione hurriedly voiced, noticing that George was fully dressed and looking at himself in the mirror.

"Do you think I'm fat?" he asked, turning to her and holding his stomach.

A grin broke across her face and she slapped his arm. "Shut up, I don't have time for this."

"Just checking to make sure you know how to smile," he answered, grinning himself.

Hermione smiled harder and pulled him along. Dropping the uneaten apple off in the kitchen, they walked down the stairs to the loud noise. An explosion of cheers and whoops erupted from the crowd as their friends and family came into view. George was immediately pulled in another direction and Hermione walked over to Ginny.

"Looks great," Hermione stated.

"You're acting like I'm the one who set it all up. All I did was get some plates and make sure the food was here on time. You were the one spending hours of time down here with George the past few days," she replied.

Hermione shrugged in response with a sheepish smile.

"You match," Ginny gasped.

"What?" Hermione asked alarmed.

"You and George match! You're bloody color-coordinated!" Ginny turned towards her before bursting into laughter at the sight of her face.

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you," Hermione grumbled.

"I'm sure, it's just- you look so couple-ish," she grinned, still giggling.

Couple? Hermione never even contemplated that she might look like she was _dating_ George. All that time around him, the jokes, the crying, even the sleeping arrangements had been innocent. She didn't intend for it to look any different and she never even thought that anyone would see it that way. It wasn't that she didn't think that George-

"Speaking of couples," Hermione broke her own thoughts; not wanting to go down the path her mind was currently working.

"Yea, speaking of couples," Ginny cut in, having a thought of her own. "I hear you and Charlie are going on a date tomorrow."

"How in the hell did you hear that?" Hermione turned towards her.

"George really is rubbing off on you. What an unladylike statement!" Ginny spoke in her best-refined English accent. "And Charlie, of course. He likes me and wanted to make sure you wore a proper outfit."

"Uh," Hermione groaned. "So you're dressing me?"

"What's wrong with me dressing you?" she responded, affronted.

"Nothing, nothing at all. It's just- for being so tomboyish you're also known for being rather…risqué with your outfits sometimes."

"It'll be perfectly respectable, I promise!"

"Before you cut me off, I was going to make a statement on the fact that you're looking at Oliver…" she smirked in response.

"What do you mean?"

"Every, like, minute you look over there! Just go talk to him."

"I am not looking over there and I'm not afraid like you're so clearly implying. I'm going to go talk to him," she stomped off.

"Too easy," Hermione muttered to herself.

"What is?" George popped in.

"Getting your sister to do things she really doesn't want to do through a mixture of anger and persuasion," Hermione answered back immediately, George laughing heartily in response.

"Want to get out of here?" George whispered.

"We just got here!" she exclaimed.

"Exactly, it's the perfect time to leave. You say we just got here?"

"Clearly," she rolled her eyes.

"Everyone just saw us enter, if they can't find us they'll just figure that we're talking to someone else and we're lost in the crowd. It's not like we're going to leave the entire night, but we still need to figure out the specifics of our wager," George persuaded.

"Fine, but just into the work room."

"That was going to be the plan either way," George nodded, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the silent room.

"The loser owes the winner a dinner of their choosing and a secret," Hermione said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"Well, that sounds reasonable," George sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down into a sitting position. Hermione sat down next to him, releasing a sigh herself.

"You ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine," George nodded.

"Does your version of fine actually mean really royally screwed up?" she answered.

"Why do you ask?

"Because I'm really fine too," Hermione nodded.

"I really appreciate you doing all this work and everything, but I don't like doing these things," he groaned.

"You used to love these types of things," Hermione stated monotonously.

"Well that was before my twin died," he snapped before silence enveloped the room. George cleared his throat and continued. "Sorry, it's just- every time some event happens the more I forget about Fred. Right now it hurts, looking around that room and seeing all his friends and I see him everywhere. Every birthday and holiday that passes by I know will feel like there is something missing, but I'm afraid that the more they happen the more I'll forget about it. I don't want to forget, Hermione, but I don't know if I can handle living and remembering."

Hermione looked at him and was speechless. She didn't know what she should say to that or do, so she rested her head on his shoulder. Words wouldn't have made any difference anyhow, so the small comfort she could give him would be far better.

"Why weren't you depressed?" Hermione broke the silence.

"When?"

"Right after the death. You didn't self-pity and stay in your room by yourself. Everyone thought you'd want to be alone."

"I couldn't handle being in there," George told her. "Being in there all alone, everyone looking in on me like I was some museum exhibit. True, I wanted to be alone, but not that brand of alone, where they stared and poked and prodded. I wanted to be back in the flat where I thought that maybe I could feel him, but it's just worse."

"You didn't end up alone."

"What?"

"You ended up with me," Hermione spoke.

"Yes I did, and I'm fine now, see?" he looked at her, willing with his eyes for it to be true.

"Real fine or our fine?"

"Our fine," he nodded, looking away from her quickly.

"I need to get out of there, Harry!" Ron and Harry bursted through the doors. Spotting Hermione and George, who had just sprung apart and stood up, they suddenly quieted down.

"Thank you for helping me fix my shoe," Hermione lied strangely, looking down at her simple sandals.

"No problem," Gorge answered, walking out of the room. Hermione took one more look at Ron and Harry before following after him. Still thinking about the awkward situation she had just left, Hermione didn't even notice where she was walking until she ran straight into Lavender.

"Oh! Hello Hermione," Lavender looked at her.

"Hi Lavender. How are you doing?" she politely replied.

"You know, the usual. Single, have a few unfixable scars from Fenrir, and I've gained weight, but besides for that, can't really complain," she shrugged. "You?"

"Oh, you know I'm-" Hermione thought before smiling slightly to herself, "-fine."

"Heard you're living with George."

"Yea, I am. It's good, we're good," she shrugged.

Lavender just stared at her before scoffing.

"What now?" Hermione was almost afraid to ask.

"You're good? You don't believe that. I mean, you're definitely not as naïve as Ron, but you don't really honestly realize, do you?"

"Realize what?" she exasperatedly responded.

"I'm not all that good at a lot of things. I'm not clever like you or beautiful like Fleur, but I can duel well enough and I'm quite good at reading people. You know George isn't doing well, but you don't know how much _better_ he does around you. I tried to talk to him earlier because, one ear short or not, he's still hot, funny, and successful and, you know, I'm single, and it was _hard_. He tried, but I could see through his effort and the awkwardness. He hurts so much, but when he's around you he immediately perks up, whether he realizes it or not," she shrugged.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I know you're going on a date with Charlie tomorrow, which I secretly hope doesn't work out because I think Padma has a crush on him and you already have such a good guy, but George, though he probably doesn't know it, likes you. Every girl deserves to know when a good guy fancies them."

"Thanks," Hermione nodded confusedly.

"No problem, but no offense, I can't spend my entire night talking to you. People and places and all that, bye Mione," she began to leave.

"Lavender!" Hermione stopped her, waiting for her to face her before continuing. "I'm sorry about not getting there soon enough and you getting all those scars because of it."

Lavender looked around before coming closer again and talking in a slightly hushed voice. "I wasn't the nicest person before the war Hermione, and I realize that now. Sometimes I look at my body and hate myself because of the permanent reminders. I can't help thinking someone's going to want to be with me some day and then see the scars and get totally grossed out, but I don't regret it. Being that close to death made me realize how stupid I had been and now I love myself so much more honestly than I ever had before. Not many people get a chance like that, Hermione," Lavender explained. Once she finished she gave a nod, a smile, and began leaving again.

"I'm still sorry," she called out.

"You wouldn't be Hermione Granger if you weren't. Don't be, though."

"Sorry?"

"Yes, I'm not," she smiled and walked away for the last and official time.

Hermione stared out after her and couldn't believe it. What a horrible, horrible situation and she didn't seem upset. She probably was, Hermione realized, and she had just been putting up a good front. Maybe she wasn't, though. Maybe she was just all right, getting by in the circumstance she'd been given. But then again, she'd said she was good at reading people, maybe she was just as good at making herself unreadable.

Speaking of reading people, she'd said George liked her. That wasn't possible. George was supposed to end up with Katie or Alicia, maybe Angelina. That was how it had always been. She'd known it since her first year, looking at Fred and George as they joked and laughed with them in the corridors. Then again, when was the last time she'd seen them anywhere around George.

Hermione looked around, hoping for anything to distract her from her thoughts. How many times had she been doing that lately? Far, far too many, she decided.

"You seem rather distracted," a voice that only one person Hermione knew sounded like gave her the distraction she so craved.

"Just thinking, Luna," Hermione explained.

"Thoughts can be rather scary, I've found," she spoke.

"How so?"

"Well, once you start submitting to them they can almost convince you that they are true," she shrugged.

"You make them sound so human, Luna," she said.

"You're human, aren't you? They're part of you. I think that makes them so."

"I don't know if that's the best qualification…"

"I could start thinking people are right, that I really am loony maybe," Luna continued her own thought. "If I started to think it maybe I'd think they were right…or maybe it's just wrackspurts, how do I know anything?" Luna explained.

"You're certainly one of a kind," Hermione smiled at Luna.

"Thank you, now I have to go find my boyfriend before Lavender attacks him again. She's worse than a trolltip," Luna twirled away.

Hermione suddenly felt rather hot and stuck in the large room. Needing some air, she exited through the front of the building. Seeing some couple making out right by the window, she decided to go in the alley so she could have some space to herself. She was only there for a few seconds before a certain redhead appeared.

"Fred! You gave me a fright," Hermione took a breath.-

"I thought you'd be used to it by now, this is what? The 6th time you've gotten scared?"

"I'm pretty sure it's only the 3rd time, thank you very much!" she replied.

"How's the party?"

"Roarin'," she sarcastically replied. With Fred staring at her funnily, she broke into giggles. "I can't believe I just said the word 'roaring'."

"I can't either. I heard about your date with Charlie."

"How does everyone freaking know!"

"Hermione, I'm a ghost, not deaf," he defended. "I was just going to say good luck, that's all."

"Thank you," Hermione sighed. She leaned her body on the wall behind her and closed her eyes for a fraction of a second.

"You know, you shouldn't-"

"Stop," she snapped back up with a pointed finger, "stop right there! What is it? Everyone lecture Hermione day? I know everyone besides me seems to be doing just fine, but I don't want it to be bloody rubbed in my face!"

"They're not doing better than you, Granger, they're just better at acting like they are," Fred chuckled.

"What about you? How are you doing so fine?"

"Who said I was?"

"It's just-" Hermione began to defend herself to Fred.

"I'm just a better actor than most, had to be with those pranks George and I were playing. You should probably get back to the party going on in there…" Fred stated.

"Yea, probably should…" she trailed off, sounding like she had no intention of actually leaving. She stood in the same place without moving, right next to Fred who was doing the same. They both looked slightly off into space, letting thoughts drift.

"Would you like to hang out here for a little bit with me?" Fred suddenly asked, snapping noise back into the restricted silence.

"Yea, that'd be nice," she answered.

Fred sighed and sat down, closing his eyes. Following his lead, Hermione did close to the same. She sat down; careful to make sure she wasn't sitting in any dirt, and stretched her legs out in front of her. Resting her head against the wall, she stared across the wall and looked at the barely identifiable wanted poster that still sat there and wished she could feel heat from Fred.

She realized, though, that moving closer would not give her the answer to this problem and came across the conclusion that if she _was_ capable of feeling heat from him, how much more _right_ the world would be.


	15. Chapter of Dates

Hermione stared at her closet. She didn't know what she was waiting for: maybe something to jump out at her? If only. Ginny had told her to see if there was something she felt the most comfortable in, an outfit that she felt compelled to wear, but all she noticed was a singular mass of clothes. How in the world was she supposed to pick something?

"Ginny, this isn't gong to work! And how am I supposed to walk in these completely ridiculous shoes?" Hermione called out. The sound of George's boisterous laugh was heard in return and then his gentle footsteps echoed around the corner as he approached.

"Ginny just left," he leaned against the doorway.

"Where did she go?" she panicked.

"Just said she had to pick something up but she'd be back in a few minutes. Now let's get to the important stuff."

"And what would that be?"

"Ginny is going to tell you to wear something red, but you shouldn't," he stated.

"And why's that?" she asked skeptically.

"Because Charlie's favorite color is blue and you'll look just as good in it."

"Thank you?" she responded.

"Ignore um's because they annoy the living hell out of him. Don't say too much about dragons that he doesn't know and you should be fine. Charlie doesn't like when a person knows more about dragons than him typically," George explained.

"Ok, I-" Hermione began.

"Hermione! I'm back and I have a present," Ginny cut her off, slamming the door behind her as she entered.

George nodded to her, leaving the doorway as Ginny entered it. She was slightly saddened when he left. It had been one of the good ones: conversations that weren't work related or about their sadness and pain. Sure, it had been about Charlie, but it was always a step in the right direction.

"Why are you carrying a shoe box? You already brought me a pair of shoes," Hermione questioned.

"I realized those high heels were a little impractical and I thought these might suit you a little better," Ginny handed over the box. Slightly worried, Hermione took it and opened it up.

"Trainers? Actually, really good looking trainers…really? These are so much better than heels. Thank you Ginny!" Hermione hugged her; mostly relieved she didn't have to wear the garish heels.

"Ok," Ginny clapped her hands together, "outfit. I suggest red, but-"

"Get out," Hermione cut her off.

"What?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Get out," she repeated nicely. "I already have an outfit planned. Now go out and wait or keep George company or something."

"Ok, you sure?"

"Positive."

* * *

><p>"Hermione, get out here, I want to see!" Ginny banged on the door.<p>

"Patience! Go sit on the couch, I'll be out there in a minute!"

Taking a seat next to George who was currently looking at some projections for the shop, Ginny waited. She was just hoping that Hermione didn't come out in anything so horrible she'd have to send her back into her room. Having to tell her that would _not _be fun. Not a second or two later, though, she appeared in her trainers and wearing-

"Purple?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Purple?" George looked up curiously.

"Yea, purple…it's one of my favorite colors," she defended. "What, is something wrong with it?"

"No, I just thought that you'd wear red since I suggested it, but you look just fine."

"Thank you Ginny," Hermione answered before turning to George to see what he thought.

"No blue?"

"I decided I wasn't going to tweak myself for any man, a Weasley included," Hermione shrugged.

"Yea, I'm glad you didn't," he mumbled quietly, deciding to leave the room as a knock on the door resonated through the space.

"Hello Charlie," Ginny greeted and opened the door while Hermione stared after George.

"Hey Hermione," Charlie greeted, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you Charlie," she answered, snapping back to attention.

Charlie was attractive, she decided, there was no way to deny it. He was neither the tallest guy in general nor the tallest Weasley, but he was tan and fit with a somewhat roguish, bad-boy kind of image. Even if he was anything but that, it was enough to make any girl swoon and Hermione wondered again why he'd asked _her_ out, but something else confused her. If such a good guy was in front of her, willing to go on a date, why could she only think about the one-eared redhead who'd just left the room? Charlie was right in front of her and all that was going on in her head was George, George, George… Why were Lavender's words repeating in her head over and over again? _"You've already got such a good guy…"_

"You ready to go?" he broke her thought.

"Yea, sure," she answered with a smile, but it didn't stop her from taking a look back at George's room before grabbing Charlie's hand to apparate away.

* * *

><p>"So, I know you don't like flying," he spoke, "but I thought I could show you why you shouldn't <em>not<em> like it."

"Ok," Hermione suddenly got a bit nervous. "Just…don't kill me."

"Wasn't planning on it," he sent her a dashing smile but for some reason an image of George smiling at her reaction to the pizza he'd asked his mother to make for her popped into her head.

"Good thing Ginny didn't insist on the heels," she laughed as she flung her leg over the broom.

Charlie laughed and placed himself in front of her. Noticing her slight discomfort on where exactly to put her hands, he grabbed her arms and pulled them around his waist. She tightened them as she felt him get ready to kick off and in seconds they were in the air.

It was rather beautiful, Hermione had to admit, but it was hard to enjoy. Not only was she partially frightened for her life (luckily not as much as she had anticipated), but she also couldn't stop thinking of George and how he hadn't been on a broom since the final battle. Why did he keep taking over her thoughts? He was just George: friend, roommate, confidante…that was all.

"Hermione? We've landed," Charlie said.

"Oh! Guess I was too in my own thoughts," she smiled and wearily got off the broom. "Where are we?"

"When I was a kid I used to escape the madness of the Weasley Family and fly here. See, if you look closely, you can see the peak of the Lovegood's house," Charlie pointed out, leaning towards her and grabbing her hand while pointing.

Memories took her over: George and her sleeping in the guest room together, them dancing together as they both sang crazily, and laughing together over a prospective potion exploding all flashed in her head as Charlie's skin touched hers. "Charlie."

He looked at her in almost a pitying way, like he already knew what she was going to say. Before it could escape her lips, though, he latched his to hers and they were kissing. Hermione let it happen for a few seconds before pushing against his chest lightly. He understood and backed off. They both looked at each other before saying in complete unison, "weird."

"It was rather like kissing Ron but less incestuous than when I did it with him," she broke the silence.

"I kiss better than my gay brother, though, right?" he asked slightly worried.

"Oh, no worries on that front," she replied with a smile.

"I agree." Charlie answered. "It didn't really have, I don't know, what I thought it would. It was just…a kiss."

"Sounds so fairytale, doesn't it? Waiting for a kiss to feel 'right' and 'perfect'?" she laughed as she sat down.

"I don't know. We're wizards who just flew on a broom after aparating to a field of lilies…sounds pretty fairytale to me," he chuckled lightly, hitting her shoulder with his.

"You're a wizard, you aren't supposed to know about things like that," she replied.

"Besides the point," he recited. "More importantly, are you really in love with him?"  
>"I'm sorry?" she sputtered. "Who exactly am I in love with?"<p>

"You are!" he exclaimed in a very unlike-Charlie way. "I never _said_ you were in love with him, I just _asked_."

"I still don't know whom we're talking about!" she belted over Charlie's laughter.

"George, of course, you silly girl."

"I'm not a girl!"

"I thought that _something_ was going on. You're always by each other-"

"We live and work together!"

"-and you're both…different around each other," he finished.

"Different?" she curiously spoke up.

"Yea, like- it's hard to explain, I already told you I'm no good with words. Both of you are happier when you're around the other. George and I talk fairly often and the difference in the way he is when you're just _in the room_ is drastic. I actually felt _bad_ when I told him we were going on a date, there was like this…de_-_sparkle or something," he explained.

"You think _he_ likes me?" she asked surprised.

"Yes," he nodded. "Hermione, when you think of the future, what do you see?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she questioned.

"Just answer it!" he defended.

"I don't know, I guess I just see me staying with George and working in the shop, maybe trying to write a book about the people lost or something of the sort…I haven't thought about it much."

"Exactly! You haven't even contemplated moving out or living with someone else, have you?"

"No, I guess I jus-"

"So, you're in love with him! You haven't even thought of leaving him yet!"

"You definitely have some of your mother's matchmaker in you," she pointed out.

"Are you denying it?" he asked.

"I just changed the subject, that's all Charlie! Calm down, will you?"

"So you don't love him?"

"Of course I love him, but-"

"You love him!" he screamed, doing a small victory dance as Hermione stared at him.

"I just said…I just said I love him, didn't I?" she spoke monotonously, in complete shock at what had come out of her own mouth.

"Yea, you did," he nodded, cutting his laughter and looking at her seriously.

"I love him," she said, testing the words out on her lips to see how they felt and sounded. "I _love_ him."

"You love him," he nodded and smiled at her.

"I do…?" she answered, still unsure of it herself even after just admitting it. "Why'd you ask me out then if you already had your suspicions?"

"Bill talked me into it. Told me that I should at least go on a date with you and see if there was something before assuming there wasn't, but I could tell. I had to kiss you, _just_ in case, but…"

"It wasn't right," Hermione nodded. "That much was obvious. You know, though, just because we didn't work out doesn't mean that there aren't girls out there for you, I'm pretty sure Padma likes you very much."

"Really?" he curiously asked, thinking it over. "I never thought…"

"Yes, I'm rather sure she does. I'd give it a go if I were you," she told him, accepting his nod.

"Thanks, Hermione," he grinned boyishly. "You know, just because we aren't 'like that' doesn't mean we can't enjoy a good evening together. There's no reason for a good date to go to waste," he offered.

"Sounds lovely, Charlie," she smiled. "Lead the way."

"Good, you accepted, I wanted to fully interrogate you on your intentions with my brother. I'd hate for you to hurt _another_ one," he stated.

"Charles Weasley!" she yelled, just about to give him a tongue-lashing. Before the words could escape her lips, though, he grabbed her by the waist and apparated them away, leaving the fairytale-esque field quiet once more.

* * *

><p>The radio clicked past stations as Ginny hit it with her wand, aggravated. Her initial effort had been to read the new romance book Hermione had so diligently picked out for her (her book choices were always the best). It became clear, however, that there was no hope to be able to read with the way George was carrying on: a constant background track of pacing, muttering, and questions. Her thought that it would be a nice night to 'hang' with George had been so clearly wrong.<p>

"Do you think he took her to get seafood? She's allergic to salmon, you know, it _could_ be rather nasty," he popped into the living room.

"No, George, I don't, because Hermione is a big girl who, I'm sure you've noticed, tends to speak her mind. She'd make it known she's allergic to them. Also, she's not stupid or an insolent child who can't take care of herself," Ginny snapped back, annoyed at the ridiculousness of her brother.

"Sorry, right," he shook his head, seeing himself how truly ridiculous he was being and went back to pacing. Finally, Ginny thought she might _actually_ get to read that novel but this time George entered angry as opposed to his worried state from earlier.

"When do you think she'll get ruddy back?" he stomped in.

"Why does it matter to you?" she sighed aggravated again.

"I'm her _employer_," he defended.

"You don't even have to _work_ tomorrow," she pointed out.

"Yes, but we open Monday and if she's tired we'll get _all_ held up and-"

"You'll be fine. If she really needs sleep she'll get it tomorrow, George," she gritted out between her teeth.

"There might be some things we have to fix in the shop tomo-"

"It's only a few hours after bloody dinner time George!" Ginny finally fully snapped, nearly breaking the coffee table from how hard she hit it. Standing up, she walked over to the slightly frightened George. "What is this really about? Because you aren't acting like just a friend or a coworker."

"You're right, Ginny, I was acting pretty nutters right there, might have even given Loony a run for her money in the good old days," he nodded dazedly, having a hard time looking straight into Ginny's eyes.

"George…do you like her?"

"Loony Lovegood? Of course not, her and Dean are together," George exclaimed.

"Hermione, George. I meant _Hermione_," she stated.

George thought about it. Did he like Hermione? She was a good friend, a _great_ friend, probably without a doubt his best friend at the moment. Isn't that what his mother had always told him? Marry your best friend? He wasn't even sure he liked the girl like that, how had marriage even entered his thoughts?

Always it had been Alicia or Katie that had been pushed into his mind. That's what his mother had alluded to anyway: George with one of them and Fred with Angelina. There'd never been any question about it. _Hermione_ had never even entered the equation as an option, she'd always been for Ron, not that it had ever been said aloud, but it was a well-known fact. Now Hermione was some uncontrollable variable messing with his mind. As he fidgeted with his hands and avoided the penetrating stare of his sister, he finally looked up, ready to answer the question.

"I'm just worried that mum's going to force her into a relationship with Charlie that won't work because she wants her in the family so much. She's been forced to do a lot of things she doesn't really _want_ to do for a long time, and it's not fair to her for that to happen again."

"That's very considerate of you George," Ginny replied.

"Well, it had to be _somewhere_ way down there inside of me," he joked.

"I don't feel like you've answered the question, though, George. 'Cause I've heard it from Lavender and Harry, who suddenly thinks he can predict relationships just because he's 'gay'…Even Charlie asked before he asked Hermione out. I'm her best friend; well I was until you came along, I don't know if I still am now…either way, I'd like to know. I _deserve_ to know."

"Ginny," he looked up with an honest look on his face. "I-"

* * *

><p>Giggling slightly to herself, Hermione walked up the stairs to the flat. She'd just left Charlie at the bar. After aparating her away, he dragged her to a funky restaurant for dinner and a few drinks at the Three Broomsticks followed. After one very tame glass of wine she called it quits and was off. Charlie had offered to walk her home but all she had to do to get him to stay was point a finger behind him at the bar, towards a bubbly Padma Patil.<p>

_"I don't feel like you've answered the question, though, George. 'Cause I've heard it from Lavender and Harry, who suddenly thinks he can predict relationships just because he's 'gay'…Even Charlie asked before he asked Hermione out. I'm her best friend; well I was until you came along, I don't know if I still am now…either way, I'd like to know. I deserve to know."_

Hermione stopped on the step, listening quietly to the words they were exchanging out of pure curiosity.

"I…it doesn't work like that. We're friends, Gin, just friends," he stated.

Having heard enough, Hermione walked through the door feeling slightly hurt. Why did it hurt so much when he said the word 'friends'? She just realized how much she truly liked him and now it was so final. The way he'd said it had _been_ so final: "just friends". Hermione never knew a word could evoke such hurt.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed happily. Hermione instantly put on a happy face and smiled at her. "How was the date?"

"It was good but we realized we're just friends, nothing more. He's currently at the Three Broomsticks attempting to romance Padma-"

"Three weeks," Ginny cut in.

Hermione shook her head, "Two."

Upon seeing George's confused face, Ginny properly explained. "Ever since Luna and Dean got together several days after the battle we've been making guesses on how long it will take couples to become 'couples'."

"That would explain a certain bet I'm currently in," George chuckled.

"Explain?" Ginny questioned.

"Nope," Hermione shrugged. "I'm going to go lay down and read probably," she spoke restlessly. "It's been a long day."

"You ok?" Ginny asked.

Nodding, Hermione dejectedly walked to her room and laid herself down, staring at the orange ceiling with a new light.

Ok was such a sham word, she decided. Was anyone ever actually _ok_? She didn't want to think about that, though. Hermione desired some kind of sweet oblivion or a calm place where she could be perfectly happy and have loving parents and a boy who loved her in return and no one ever died.

Really, whom was she kidding? It wasn't true and it never would be.

She'd never realized how much admitting it to herself would hurt.


	16. Chapter of Takens

**It's possible there are some errors in this, and in that case you can just review and tell me them so I can fix them. I didn't have all that much time to edit this, so sorry!**

**Also, if someone can tell me the tv show I make a small reference to not only will i be IMMENSELY impressed, you will also be my new best friend. Haha, ok, enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"Be careful with the fluxwood spores!" Hermione called as she looked through the cabinet.<p>

"I'm always careful with them!" George answered, stirring the potion.

The potion they were currently working on was designed to make a person act out everything they were thinking without words. Well…if it ever got further than the testing stages. This was their fifth draft of the potion currently and at this rate it didn't appear as if they'd ever get any closer to the final product. It seemed as if they'd been constantly working on it since Saturday night whenever possible.

"Here's the essence of pansyroot. I've got to go get something to drink, don't blow the shop up, ok?" she asked.

"Ok, and could you bring me some water? It's hot in here," he fanned himself dramatically.

"Sure."

Hermione walked up to the flat and got two glasses, about to fill them when Fred suddenly popped in.

"I didn't scare you," he said.

"Very observant," she replied. "I guess I've finally become immune after all this time."

"What are you doing?" Fred asked and Hermione lifted up the now filled glasses. "No, I mean downstairs, in the work room."

"Oh, working on a potion. Speaking of it, maybe you could help with it."

"The potion you guys have been working on the past few days?"

"Yes, actually. It makes them act out-"

"Yea, I know what you're talking about. George and I were going to start working on it before I died but never got around to it. Have you tried substituting Blackle tree syrup with that of a simple Maple?"

"No," she answered skeptically. "Will that work?"

"Trust me on this one. Just try it," he assured her.

"Ok, well, I have to, you know, get back to work," she told him, picking up her wand and levitating the water glasses in front of her. Hermione walked down the stairs back to the workroom, not noticing the mischievous smile Fred wore.

"Try Maple Syrup," Hermione said after handing the glass over to him.

"Are you sure?" he questioned.

"Let's just try it," she spoke as she grabbed it from the cabinet. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could die," George stated.

"Wouldn't be the first time," she shrugged, measuring it.

"I don't know Hermione," George began, missing what she'd said just seconds before. "Fred always said to not put it-" he continued as Hermione poured the ingredient into the potion.

"Wait!" she snapped around, cutting him off. "Fred said?"

"Yea, he said-"

"Back up!" she screamed just as the potion exploded all over her. It turned from the light green it had been to magenta, making Hermione look like some undistinguishable creature. George looked on worriedly. "Get the potion off me before you dare touch me, it could spread and- oh crap."

"Hermione, what! What is it?" George yelled at her as her expression changed.

"George," she smiled widely, taking a step towards him slowly.

"Hermione?" he awkwardly queried.

"Of course it's me, you idiot," she rolled her eyes. "The question is what you're going to do with me."

"Excuse me?" he gulped, not liking the way Hermione was talking and acting.

"You know, George, I've always thought you were really attractive," Hermione tried to latch herself onto him.

"No, no!" George escaped to the other side of the table across from her. "I have to get the potion off you and then figure out how to fix you."

"I don't want to be fixed…I want you," she smiled.

"Oh shut up," he rolled his own eyes, feeling so _Hermione-ish._ "Scourgify Maxima!"

Hermione ignored his desire of distance and began rotating herself around the corner of the table. Still in thought about what exactly to do about it all, he didn't see her approaching. She slinked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Upon feeling the contact, he turned around to see her face.

"You're so wonderful George," Hermione whispered, lifting her hand to his cheek and keeping it there.

"You don't know what you're saying," George whispered back.

"I'm Hermione Granger…if I didn't mean what I had just said then I wouldn't have said it," she smiled. Lifting her hand from his cheek she moved it to the back of his neck, trying to pull him down. Leaning his body into hers, he moved his face closer, reveling in the heat he felt. Ignoring the slight desire to stay exactly where he was, he grabbed the wand sitting on the table behind her before turning and aparating them away.

The first thing George heard as they landed in the yard of the Burrow was Mrs. Weasley calling both of their names. How in the world could she have known they would be there? George figured she had probably just been working in the garden and didn't think anything more of it. George called her over and made sure there was distance between him and Hermione.

"Oh, it feels like forever," she said, grabbing George in a hug. "What brings you to The Burrow?"

"Hermione she- uh- got a potion on her and I think it was some kind of lust or love combination potion but I'm not sure exactly," he explained.

"Oh- oh dear," she began laughing, trying to hold it in and keep a straight face but failing miserably.

"It's not funny!" George stated.

Mrs. Weasley nodded her head, trying to gain her composure before exploding anew and replying, "yes, it is."

"What's funny?" Mr. Weasley questioned as he came out of his shed.

"Hermione- potion- George," Mrs. Weasley attempted to explain.

"Hermione got a potion that I believe was a love potion type thing all over her and is in love with me now," George explained properly.

"I see," he laughed slightly. "We'll get this figured out," he added as he took the red Mrs. Weasley and ushered her into the house.

"Come on Hermione," he grumbled.

"Of course," she followed obediently.

Once inside, George took a quick seat and Hermione sat down next to him. Mr. Weasley sat down across the table and Mrs. Weasley entered the dining area after her quick detour to the living room.

"What did you just go do?" George asked.

Before Mrs. Weasley could get out an answer, voices came from the living room. It was clear that multiple people had just floo-ed in and George just looked towards his mother.

"What did you do? Mass owl message?" he sarcastically spoke.

"Don't be ridiculous, that would take far too long. I mass floo-messaged them all."

In that second, as every Weasley and Harry bursted through the living room door and laughed at Hermione leaning all over him, George had no question as to where his pranking attitude had come from. She was a devious woman, he decided. Making all these friends and family come and watch as he was in distress because Hermione threw herself at him, would probably be great payback for all he'd done over the years. The one thing that kept him sane was knowing that his mother was going to most definitely receive the cold shoulder when Hermione came to.

"Ok, we've all had our laugh, haha," he projected.

"George, calm down, it's funny," Ron rolled his eyes.

"Really? It's funny that the only person who can cure her is the same person under the spell?"

"No, but it's kind of funny that she's all over you and trying to feel you up," Harry chuckled.

"Imagine what you'd say a few years ago if you were told that Hermione Granger would be all over you in a few years," Ginny suggested. It was exactly what George needed to finally snap and crack up with the rest of them all.

"So what do we do now?" George asked once the laughing calmed down.

"What you'd do if you test subject was anyone but Hermione: wait it out," Bill supplied.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but her hand is currently on my thigh and she's whispering in my ear about how much she loves me. How exactly should I wait it out?" George sarcastically bit back.

"You know, I thought you were wearing off on Hermione a lot, but that sentence totally sounder Granger if you ask me," Charlie said.

"Agreed," Ginny nodded and holding out her hand said, "Hermione, George wants to take you on a really nice date to a really nice restaurant, but we have to get you cleaned up, ok?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I'll miss you so much George," she kissed his cheek before grabbing onto Ginny's hand.

"What are you doing?" George questioned.

"Stalling," Ginny whispered behind her before disappearing out of sight with Hermione.

"I just hope Hermione snaps out of it soon enough that I don't have to figure out what I'm going to tell her about our 'date'," George spoke.

"Yea, good luck with that one," Bill laughed. "I promised I'd only be out for a little bit before I came back and told Fleur all about what happened: she's feeling sick."

"Oh! Before you go I have to get her some chicken noodle soup from the fridge," she exclaimed.

"She doesn't have the flu mom, she's just nauseous," he explained.

"My mother swore by this soup when I was little and I do too. She'd even make me take it when I had migraines…"

"Ok, I'll give it to Fleur," he took the container and then floo-ed out.

"I should probably get going too…" Percy awkwardly spoke.

"Sit down, chat with the men," Charlie stated, knocking the chair out for him to have a seat. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exited into the backyard and Harry and Ron went off to play a game of Wizard's chess, leaving Charlie, Percy, and George in the room.

"Hold on," Charlie rose in the chair he was leaning back in. "What are they doing in that living room, when they say wizard's chess…?"

"Wizard's chess still means wizard's chess Charlie!" Harry yelled through the living room door.

"Thank god," he rubbed his face before looking up at Percy. "Word on the street is that there's something going on between you and Pansy Parkinson."

"Where'd you hear that from?" he asked.

"Marietta Edgebomb can apparently neither stay out of others' business nor keep her mouth shut about it," Charlie replied.

"Yes."

"Hm?" he responded.

"Yes, there is something going on between us. Before you go on about how it'll never work out and we don't have a ch-"

"I think it makes perfect sense," George interrupted.

"You do?"

"Yea, I was talking to Hermione about this a-"

"Hermione knows?" he cut in.

"I think she was in the room when you were talking to Ginny about this? Don't ask me, I was half asleep at the time," he offered.

"Oh…ok," he seemed confused.

"You guys make sense as a couple and you clearly make each other happy," George shrugged.

"Yea," Charlie added. "And at the end of the day isn't that really all you care about? Being happy?"

"Thanks, that makes telling you guys a lot easier," he sighed in relief.

"Yes, now we have to talk about manly things to make up for all this 'gooey crap'," Charlie spoke.

"Like monster trucks, beards, explosions, and grilling," George concluded, bring laughter to all of them.

"You know, I really do have to go. I have a date with Pansy," Percy nodded to them.

Percy sprang up and exited the room. With a quick random explanation to Charlie, George got up as well. He rushed through the door and thought for a second that he was too late as green flames erupted from the fireplace before noticing that Percy was, in fact, still in the room. George grabbed his arm and turned him toward him.

"Why didn't you want to stay? Why wouldn't you look me in the eye- no- why wouldn't you look at _me_," he asked, so genuinely curious and hungry for the answer it nearly felt tangible.

"You should know why it hurts to look at you," Percy answered.

"You know, maybe from anyone else I could have accepted that answer, but not from you. You're pretty much the most resilient, using a Granger word, person I know out of all us Weasley bunch. So, I ask again, why?" he persisted. Percy looked up slowly and finally _at_ George and began to talk.

"When you were four and I was six you took my book and damaged it. At six you took my bike, left it outside, and let it rust. When I got into Hogwarts and _finally_ got some attention for _something _that was just me and nobody else you stole it with a broken wrist. When you were 13 you took the attention of the girl I liked and once I was a prefect you took some of the joy out of that too. You've taken a lot of things from me, George, _a lot_, but any of those, all of them combined even, can never_ ever_ be as bad as what I took from you."

"I can't ever be forgiven and, frankly, I don't expect to be. I left you twin-less, without a best friend, and alone, deep in depression and sadness. I was supposed to look after you two, that was how it had always been. We looked after the one younger than us, but it was so hard with you because you two were so crazy. I should have done a better job at being your older brother, and no matter how many times Pansy tells me I shouldn't blame myself for that I always will."

"I can't ever undo what I've done, George but honestly, Fred isn't even the worst thing I took from you: I took his last laugh, his last smile, and his last moments. Anyone, absolutely anyone you'd ask, knows those belonged solely to you. I should have never taken them; George, and I wish I could give them back. Those three things are the ones that keep sleep away and haunt me during the day because they were yours. I took the worst things imaginable and I am so sorry," Percy looked at him with tears in his eyes. Realizing there was nothing more to be said as George stared at him in disbelief, he wiped his eyes quickly and jumped into the floo.

"George, you coming back in here?" Charlie yelled.

"Of course," he countered, tearing his eyes away from the floo. Exiting the living room George entered the kitchen just in time to see Ginny and Hermione walking down the stairs.

In that flash of an instance, George wished with all his heart that Hermione really did feel the way about him that she was displaying today. Coming home to Hermione every day, he realized, wouldn't be that bad. Frankly, it would be pretty nice. To have someone love you like Hermione Granger would surely be a prize. She was smart and beautiful: those two were obvious though. He loved the way she bit her lip when she was thinking through something that really wasn't that attractive at all or her strange fetish for music because it was something she had trouble understanding.

Without a doubt he loved the way she talked so free and happily with Lavender and Luna even though they sometimes had absolutely nothing to say to each other at all and the way she whispered swear words to herself only when she thought she was alone because her mother had engrained in her how very 'unbecoming' such a habit was.

So he loved these things about her without question, but the big question was if he loved _her_. He knew he loved her for what she'd done for him, was still doing for him, pulling him out of this hell hole he called life. He'd been standing on the edge of it and had just fallen in when she came along and made sure that hellhole had choked on him. Even bigger than did he love her…was would he let himself love her?

It felt like a disgrace almost, to let himself be any kind of happy, but didn't he deserve it? Honestly, George didn't know the answer. He wanted to scream from the mountain tops about the pain but at the same time say absolutely nothing at all about it so it would eat him from the inside out. He wasn't supposed to be happy; he was supposed to be sad and depressed…wasn't he?

"George, aren't you going to say anything about how beautiful Hermione looks?" Ginny interrupted his thoughts.

"Of course," George spoke. "You look gorgeous, Granger."

"Thanks George," she smiled goofily. "It was all Ginny though. I let her just do whatever she wanted."

"For the first time, like, ever. It was awesome!" she exclaimed.

"Wow Mione, you look stunning," Harry entered.

"Thanks," Hermione beamed walking over to George and grabbing his hand. She leant up for a kiss and he turned his head at the last minute, for a second having been so tempted just to leave it where it was and see what it would be like.

"It's ok," Hermione came on her tiptoes and attempted to whisper in his ear. "We'll save it for later."

"You know, if you had dressed like that at Hogwarts you might have gotten more dates," Ron suggested.

"It would have been a little impractical for Herbology, wouldn't it have?" Hermione countered.

"Yea," Ginny spoke up. "I couldn't really seeing you pulling a mandrake in that dress."

"I didn't really like pulling mandrakes, rather not fun…" Charlie said.

"I'd pull your mandrake any day," Ron meant to whisper to Harry, but he seemed to not have mastered the art quite yet and ended up speaking loud enough for the entire room to hear.

"Ew."

"That's disgusting."

"I think I just puked."

In that instant Hermione's eyes suddenly changed and the slight fog that had been gleaming in them went away. "That's revolting!"

"Hermione?" Charlie asked.

"I'm back. Must have been that gross pick up line, really was gross," she muttered.

"You ok?" Ginny offered.

"Yea, I'm just- sorry 'bout what I did George. I pretty much jumped you."

"It's all right," he shrugged.

"I feel rather wonky," she spoke. "I think I might go home and lay down or something. You coming with?"

"George has to talk to me for a minute and then he'll be right behind you," Ginny supplied. George looked at her with confusion, but followed anyway as they began walking outside.

"What's this about Ginny?" he asked.

"Would it have been that bad to let her kiss you?" she broke the silence.

"Excuse me?' he exclaimed, completely surprised.

"You heard me."

"Of course not, she's a pretty bird and a great friend but she'd regret it later," George answered.

"I'm not sure she would have."

"Of course she would have Ginny, can I just go home? It's been a long day," he sighed.

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because I'm not a catch, Ginny, and neither of us feel that way about each other."

"I'm not so sure, why can't you just admit you have some kind of feelings for her?" Ginny threw her hands in the air exasperated.

"Because what in the world do I have to offer her anymore Ginny? I'm not smart, I'm sad all the time, and I'm not even funny anymore!" he yelled.

"You make each other better, you make each other _happy. _Can you honestly tell me that isn't something good to offer?" Ginny asked.

"I just want to go home," George closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

"Where's that exactly?" she queried as he turned to leave.

"When I figure it out I'll tell you," he replied, aparating away and leaving nothing but a shimmer of his words behind.


	17. Chapter of Anger

**I know this might be a little short but i cut a chapter that was 4000 words down into two chapters at the last minute. I thought there was just a little too much craziness going on in that many words**

**Anyways, enjoy, let me know what you're thinking. I think I'm going to do another contest like I did during Boggart, if you really want me to also let me know that too! **

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><p>Hermione looked at the empty shop with boredom. Even George, who rarely admitted that the shop wasn't going to have many costumers that day, had gone off to do something else. Realizing that no one was going to come in, she turned off the 'shopping music' and turned on a band she much rather preferred. The book she'd been reading for fun (she wouldn't dare let George see it because she had a feeling he'd rip on her for reading it) banged on the counter as she put it down and began to read.<p>

Romance novels held a special place in Hermione's heart. They may have held no instructional or educational value in her opinion (usually, though she had found a few exceptions in her life), but they were still great for letting loose. Every once in a while, when her head couldn't force a single strip of information through it, she turned to the pages of a romance. Today just so happened to be one of those days.

"I still can't believe you did that!" George's laughter entered the room as the bell went off. Hermione whipped her head up; incredibly surprised that George was laughing and sounded so genuinely happy with someone else.

"I was young and stupid," Angelina laughed along with him.

"Oh, hey Hermione," George said.

"Hello George," she smiled (somewhat stiffly, he noted, though he doubted anyone who wasn't either her best friend or roommate could tell). "Hey Angelina."

"Hi Hermione, what are you reading?" she asked both politely and curiously at the same time.

All of a sudden it came back to her: the novel. It was one thing for George to see her reading something called The Secret Truth of Our Forever when they were alone, but it was something entirely different for both of them to witness it and probably laugh about it together later. Thinking off the top of her head, Hermione made a loud, surprised "oh" as she looked behind them. Both Angelina and George looked behind themselves at the same time while Hermione slid the novel off the counter and coughed to cover up the bang it made as it hit the ground.

"I thought I saw…" she trailed off as they turned back and looked at her like she was crazy. "I guess I'm just seeing ghosts."

Not for the first time in her life Hermione questioned why she hadn't become an actress as her profession of choice (5th and 6th year had trained her well). She had become rather good at hiding most things and both of them seemed to believe her. Angelina looked slightly freaked out by her words but didn't get a chance to say anything as George motioned her into the Backroom. As soon as the door to the Backroom closed, Hermione jumped off her stool and onto the ground.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to her book as she unfolded the page that had crumpled in the fall. "No book deserves to be treated like that."

Hermione placed the book on the counter before going to the door and flipping over the 'open' sign to 'closed'. With a flick of her wand the music was turned off, the lights dimmed, and out of place objects were put in their place. Normally she would go in and fix all objects so they were in their places properly (magic didn't always have the sense to put labels facing front); the effort to care wasn't in Hermione today, though, and she grabbed her book off the counter before going upstairs to her room and splaying herself on the bed.

Why did it bother her so much that they were laughing together? Even Hermione couldn't kid herself that she was jealous. It was no secret (to herself…and Charlie for that matter, so, actually, it really rather was a secret in its own right), that she liked George. Angelina had a boyfriend: Lee, there was absolutely nothing going on between George and Angelina. Right? Why was she still so bothered then?

"Wow, Hermione, you closed the shop up quick today," George stated as he entered her room and jumped onto her bed in an obnoxious manner.

"No one came in and I was tired," she shrugged. "How was whatever you did with Angelina?"

"Did I do something?" George asked. "You seem to be upset with me and I can't figure out what I did."

"You didn't do anything," she sighed. "It wasn't you."

"Who was it?"

"You don't want to hear about my petty issues," she stated, picking at a loose thread on her comforter.

"I wouldn't have asked," he offered.

"I just…" she trailed off, trying her best to think of a way of saying it without offending him. "I don't know if Angelina has your best interests at heart."

George looked at her like she was honestly crazy for a minute or two before speaking up. "You and her are friends…why are you saying this?"

"She has a boyfriend and I think she could be using you to feel better. She was clearly flirting with you!"

"Hermione…her and I barely spoke to each other in front of you…" he trailed off.

"I could tell!"

"Hermione…are you jealous?" George smirked at her, pushing up on his side and looking at her.

"I am not!" she yelled.

"You're acting like it right now," he supplied.

"Well," she said as she heard the floo go off. "I'm going to be the _adult_ here and go see who just entered our flat."

Hermione stormed out of the room as George's laughter rang behind her. He was such a jerk sometimes and she didn't know if it was really him being a jerk or her being an easy person to rile up. She wanted to complain about him more, whether in her head or aloud, but Ron was currently brushing soot off his clothing.

"Hey Hermione, mum asked me to return this to you," Ron said, holding out a bag like he felt less manly just for holding it.

"Thanks, I guess the other day I was in such a rush to get home I forgot about it," she took the bag and set it down on the kitchen counter. She looked through it to ensure that everything she needed wasn't still in some random crevice of the Weasley house. As she looked up she noticed Ron was still there, checking everything out.

"The place looks nice," he stated as he looked at some random pictures decorating the mantle.

"Yea, thanks," she shrugged. "Isn't much, but it's home."

"Hermione…that's what I wanted to ask you about. Do you really want to make this your home forever?"

"What are you trying to say Ron?" she crossed her arms. "Because if it's going to make me either angry or sad today _really_ isn't the day for it."

"I was talking to some people at the ministry today and there are a number of departments that would be ecstatic to take you in," he suggested.

"I work here, Ron," she sighed in tiredness.

"You don't have to, though, that's what I'm saying," he whispered. "George is fine, he doesn't need you to help him run the shop anymore. Can't you see? It's your chance to get out, Hermione."

"Get out?" she exclaimed angrily.

"Did you hear what I said? He's fine!"

"I knew you weren't the smartest from the first day I met you and you had that fleck of dirt on your nose but I never knew how honestly thick you were until this very moment," Hermione said with a quiet, fiery anger in her voice.

"What's got your wand in such a knot?" he responded.

"George is ok?' she yelled. "Yea, Ron, he's perfectly fine, doing cartwheels and sliding down the side of rainbows!"

"Why are you so angry?"

"George is no where near all right and I can't believe that you would have the audacity to even suggest it! Have you looked around this apartment at all? Do you not think there's a reason that broom over in the corner, which happens to be George's, is collecting dust? There' a reason that he hasn't pranked, there's a reason all the pictures besides me and him aren't standing up, and there's a reason there's a broken mirror in the bathroom and the rest are usually covered up!" she yelled, raising her hands up and looking straight at him.

"I- I didn't know," he whispered.

"That much was clear! I understand you've had some trouble with Harry and with your own life, but I didn't think you would be so blind to other people, your brother included," she spoke.

"Hermione, it's not like-"

"You know," she cut off. "It's been a really long day and I think I'd like it if you could just go and get out of here," she muttered, crossing her arms and not making eye contact.

"Yea," he replied. "I understand."

Ron exited the room, sending an apologetic look behind him before flooing away. Hermione took a deep breath and groaned, how had her life become this? Going from jealousy and embarrassment to rage in zero seconds flat. Turning around, she began walking back to her room before noticing something on the ground; she noticed that the item was a pale, skin color.

In anger she stomped over and slammed her foot down on to it before picking it up in her hand. She looked at the slightly crushed extendable ear and pulled it towards her mouth. "What in the world is wrong with you Weasley men?" she yelled ferociously.

Hermione threw it on the ground and walked back over to the room she had vacated before meeting Ron. A few groans, from her yelling she guessed, were heard through the door and they spurred her on. Grabbing the doorknob she flung it open and stomped in, ignoring the loud bang from the door hitting the wall.

"Hermione," he said.

"What, George? What do you have to say? Do you have some unforeseen reason for eavesdropping in on my conversation with your git of a brother?" Hermione fumed.

"No, I just heard you yell and I-"

"Wanted to hear what drama was unfolding in my life? Thought it would be funny to be able to mess with the swot Hermione Granger? Hopefully you'd get some dirt to pull a prank?" she spoke, her voice wounded and upset.

"It was nothing like that Hermione," he spoke in quiet tones, his eyes begging her to understand.

"Then what is it? Because I went out on a ledge for you: I defended you because you are important to me and I didn't think Ron deserved to say those things about you, but maybe he's right, yea? You seem to be using your own products just fine, maybe you don't need me anymore," Hermione told him. "I thought you were some kind of a wounded man, but I guess I'm wrong to assume something like that. If you're scared of being alone maybe you can go to Angelina for comfort, I'm going to Ginny's."

"Hermione, don't leave," George pleaded.

"That's the thing I've learned, George, you can't always control when a person leaves," she turned toward him before beginning to walk backwards. "If I could Fred would still be here, my parents wouldn't have kicked me out, and Teddy would have parents."

"You can't blame yourself for not being God Granger," he whispered back.

"I can't, you're right," she nodded teary-eyed, "but I can for not stepping in, for hiding the truth, and for kidding myself into believing that you actually wanted me around."

"Hermione, don't be so dramatic, who ever said I didn't want you around? I don't want you to leave me," he eyed her, walking towards her as she walked backwards away from him and towards the door.

"The reason you want me here and the reason I want to be here are fueled by two different reasons and completely different feelings," she smiled sadly.

"What are you saying?" he stopped his movement.

"Can you really not know how I feel about you?" she exclaimed, her words loud as they rang through the room.

"Wha-What?"


	18. Chapter of Coverups

George's face turned to one full of shock and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes grew larger. She backed up into the door of the flat and turned, opening the door and running down the stairs as fast as her feet could possibly take her. George's voice yelling her name echoed down the staircase behind her as he feet propelled her forward. She knew she should apparate away but even in her frazzled state she knew it would probably be a bad idea. Her chance of ending up in the proper place was slim to none and if she did she most likely would end up splintering herself.

"Hermione!"

"George, I…"

"It's Fred," he cut her off. Hermione turned to him and noticed she had only made it to the end of the block. Then why was she breathing so heavily?

"What are you doing?" she wheezed out.

"Go back, Hermione."

"Fred, I don't," she spoke before cutting herself off and leaning against the nearby building.

"Hermione, you don't look so good, are you so sure you're ok?" Fred asked, his voice full of concern.

"Thanks, Fred, that's exactly what every girl wants to-"

"Hermione!" George spoke, standing several feet away from her. "Who are you talking to?"

"No one."

"Why did you say Fred's name?" he questioned her.

"I didn't," she argued back, putting more of her body against the wall because of her increasing weakness.

"Are you ok?"

"Never am," she sarcastically bit back, sitting down on the ground. Soon she decided to transfer her sit to a laying position and put her cheek on the somewhat colder concrete. If Hermione didn't feel completely sick she might have realized how true she felt that statement was to her life.

"I'm serious, you look really sick," he pushed forward, putting the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're burning up!"

"You sound like some old woman from some crappy movie," she muttered.

"That sentence sounded stupid, Merlin help us all," he laughed. His laughing stopped abruptly as he saw some of her skin from the place where her shirt rose up. "What's this?"

"I thought maybe it would go away," she muttered to herself with her eyes closed.

"You ridiculous girl! I think it's infected," he said, touching the warm, red, and swollen place on her waist. "I think I need to take you to mum's."

"I'll be fine," she mumbled.

"Yea, I can see that by the way you are laying on the ground," he rolled his eyes. Ignoring her grumbles he grabbed her and apparated to his mum's. Grabbing her arms, he tried to get her to stand up, but failed miserably. Hermione resisted his help, flopping her body so that she stayed on the ground. "Help me out here, Granger!"

"I'd rather just lay here," she responded, grumbling.

"Please," he pleaded.

Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. The concern she had heard in his voice was genuine as well as written across his face and there was no way she could deny that. As much as it pained her to give into his commands she stood up. Walking fully hurt her waist and she ended up leaning heavily on George as he guided her into the house.

"Mum! I need you!" he yelled while he set Hermione down on the couch.

"What is it?" she answered as she walked in. Mrs. Weasley walked towards George and noticed Hermione lying on the couch. "Oh dear."

"I'm not dying!" Hermione exclaimed. "You don't have to make it sound like I am."

"How did you get this cut?" she asked.

"Just a piece of glass," she responded. The way she spoke made it sound final, it clearly said that 'just a piece of glass' was the answer and it would go no further. Neither George nor Mrs. Weasley bothered to question into it anyhow.

"It's surely infected," she stated. "I need to go get a few supplies."

"Mum," George stopped her by the door to the living room, unaware that Hermione could still hear them. "It sounded like, when I was talking to her before aparating here…like she thought she was talking to Fred."

"Oh, poor thing, she must be having slight hallucinations because of her fever. By her breathing I'd say she was running before she fell as well, and all that heat she was getting surely didn't help. She still seems pretty out of it, I'd reckon it's from all that. Don't worry, I'll fix her right up, just got to get a healing spell book from my room."

Hermione was grateful in a way: to have her secret get covered up again. Now she wouldn't have to make up some excuse or reason behind why she had uttered Fred's name. On the other hand…being so close to having her secret known to at least one person was somewhat of a relief. It had felt good to think that maybe she didn't have to keep it in all the time, that she could share her secret with someone and not have to feel like she was hiding something all the time.

After hearing that she realized what she had to do: cover it all up. For the sake of her secret and everything that had happened she was going to, had to really. No one could know that what she had all said was true. As nice as it would have been to have it all out there on the table, it really wasn't an option.

Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley's voice muttering a spell and she opened her eyes slightly. The spells kept going and Hermione watched as she waved her arms over her wound, the words almost putting her into a trance-like state. The words were the only thing she could think about as she focused solely on the spell coming out of Mrs. Weasley's mouth. Everything else slipped away for a few blissful seconds and then Mrs. Weasley finished and it all came rushing back.

"Oh…how are you feeling?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she noticed her open eyes.

"Fine," she shrugged.

"Never let a wound get like that! Even if you just come to me to get it checked out, because you're fine now but from what it sounds like you were hallucinating from the fever! I've never even seen that happen before…you push yourself too hard."

"Tell your son it's his fault then, since he's the boss," she spoke as she attempted to reposition herself. A deep laugh came from the door and she looked over to see him leaning there.

"Why am I always blamed?" he asked.

"Because it's always your fault," Hermione smiled over at him.

"I have to go finish dusting out all the dixies upstairs. I'll come and check on you in a little bit but the spell should fix you up pretty good in no time," Mrs. Weasley told her. She patted her back once before standing up, walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.

"You should have told me that you got cut on that glass," he spoke, coming over and sitting on the couch next to her.

"I'm sorry, I honestly didn't think it would amount to so much drama," she responded. "Well, at the very least it made our lives a little more interesting," she shrugged her shoulders, feeling a slight tinge in her side as she did so.

"It did," he nodded.

"I don't remember exactly all of what I said to you, but I know I wasn't very nice about it all, so I'm sorry that I yelled at you for using the Extendable Ear. If anything it actually makes me happy," she told him.

"Me eavesdropping on you?"

"No, that I am a little upset about. Do you realize that this is honestly the first time I've seen you do anything close to pranking?"

"I guess you're right," he stated in a wondering way. "Either way, I should probably apologize, so…sorry."

"It's okay," she shrugged.

"I should probably let you sleep or something. You must be tired with everything that happened today," he spoke, standing up and sending a small smile in her direction.

"I mean, if you want to stay I'm not that tired we could…" she petered out, looking at him and stopping her words. "You probably have something to do, sorry."

"You're right, I have to go check on something with the shop. I'll be back when I can. My mom will take good care of you," he smiled in a way that looked forced and Hermione couldn't really seem to figure out why exactly.

"She always does," she smiled back.

George began to walk away and Hermione had a strong desire to stop him. Before she even had to contemplate it further he turned back towards her. "Hermione," he whipped around. "I don't know what exactly you all remember, but…about that one thing you said before you left the apartment…you deserve better, than me I mean."

"I'm sorry, George," she stated, shaking her head slightly. "I can't remember exactly what you're talking about."

How could George think she deserved better? He was basically her best friend right now and he thought he wasn't good enough? That she deserved better? Frankly, it didn't matter what she _deserved _anyways: she _wanted_ George. There wasn't anyone else she wanted and she believed there was a part of her that actually _needed_ him too. Her mouth was sealed, though, and she couldn't say anything without changing everything.

"Oh, ok then," he nodded, a confused look taking over his face. "Well, I'm sure you can deal without me for several hours. Just don't faint and hallucinate or something."

"I'll try my best, George. I'm glad you're joking," she smiled.

"Me too, now go to sleep, my little swot, and get some sleep before my prat of a bother probably comes storming in here and wakes you up."

"I'll make sure to do that," she yawned. Hermione turned over onto her stomach and got comfortable. George's footsteps became distant and she closed her eyes, making the sounds of both her and George's breathing her sole focus.

"Have fun," she yawned again, "figuring out whatever you have to figure out."

"Yea," he whispered. "I will. See you later Granger."

George waited for some kind of reply from her but heard none. Walking around the couch, he sat down on the coffee table and noticed she had fallen asleep. A chuckle left his mouth and he stood up, giving a kiss to her forehead before going back over to the door.

"My life never used to be this brand of crazy, Hermione Granger. Only you could bring that, I suspect. I don't mind that, though, I hope you know. I rather enjoy having you around, crazy," he shook his head. "I just don't know exactly what that means. I'll be back."

The sound of Hermione's calm breathing was the last sound George heard as he apparated away.

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><p><strong>I was originally going to wait until this Sunday to update because I was gone last Sunday and thought that y'all could wait a week, but decided that I was being mean.<strong>

**I tried to post Wednesday...it didn't work. What about Thursday? Oh wait, I'm alindy's computer and I'm going to be a JERK! So, finally, Friday arrives and it actually works...ah...the way life should be.**

**I'll still be posting Sunday so see you again in, like, two and a half days. **

**P.S. The contest is in the works...**


	19. Chapter of Swings

"Are you sure you want to go, dear? The potion and charm only just now started to take effect. I'm not trying to push you out…" Mrs. Weasley doted, resetting the pillows on the couch.

"I'll be fine, you worry far too much," she smiled.

"You can't possibly apparate, I won't let you," she pushed.

"I'll floo then," she pushed. "I'll check in with you again soon."

"Why don't you at least wait a few hours so that George will be there when you return," she offered as Hermione walked over to the floo.

"I need a little alone time, to be honest," she stated. "Ill see you soon Mrs. Weasley," she smiled, grabbing her in a sudden hug.

"What was that for?"

"I just love you, you know? That's all," Hermione shrugged. Waiting awkwardly right next to the floo, she shuffled from foot to foot.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley asked out of the blue.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione shrugged, sending a half-hearted smile in her direction.

"Does it have to do with George?" she spoke.

"It-uh…" Hermione paused because the words didn't come to her. It didn't happen to her often, the lack of words, ad she realized how very much she disliked it. She was a person who always knew what to say, or, at the very least, the right words to say _something. _To have no words, no idea of what to say at all…that moment didn't come often, and it threw her off her, normally, perfectly planned step.

"Hermione…do you love my son?" Mrs. Weasley asked seriously.

"I think you've known me long enough to know the answer to that," she responded.

"I don't understand what the problem is, then. Does it have to do with that fake infatuation you had towards him the other day?" Mrs. Weasley questioned.

"You wouldn't know this Mrs. Weasley, but there was an ingredient in that potion, one that means it was in no way fake. It only magnifies feelings you already have," she stated, laughing to herself. "I think he knows that too," she sighed. "That plus what I said when I had my fever…I think he's only humoring me by not confronting me."

"If he knows, then, what are you waiting for?" she questioned, watching her face as the words left her throat. "You don't think that he reciprocates."

Hermione nodded, "If he did, wouldn't he have made a move already?"

"I'm not hip," Mrs. Weasley began, "so I don't know how things in the dating scene really work these day: I haven't gone on a date with someone I wasn't married to for a _very_ long time. The only think I do know is this: trends may come and go, but old school and traditional _always_ stays, and there's a reason for that. There's nothing wrong with just _telling_ him, and then if he doesn't agree you can always come here or go to Ginny's. I love my son, and I love that _you_ love him because I think he needs someone to love him the way you do because I can see the way you feel about him, but if he doesn't return the feeling, well, he's a very stupid man."

Hermione looked at her for a second, a tear dripping down her cheek while her body stayed entirely still. Not a second later, Hermione flung her body at Mrs. Weasley's body and hugged her as if her life depended on it. Mrs. Weasley got teary-eyed and Hermione hugged tighter.

"I love you so much, Mrs. Weasley. You've been my real mom for a long time," she cried slightly, her voice cracking as she spoke.

"Oh, dear, you lovely, lovely child," she grasped at Hermione harder. With the words Hermione spoke she knew there was more to the story, a reason she thought she was her real mom, but she didn't push. If Mrs. Weasley had known all those years ago that she was going to end up with two new lovely children when she sent Ron on his way to Hogwarts for the first time, she might have tried to make sure that she had gotten all the dirt off of his nose before sending him off.

"I should really get going," Hermione pulled back, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. Her face still held remains of them, however. Redness covered her cheeks and her nose and it was miraculous that Hermione didn't really feel uncomfortable.

"Ok sweetie," she smiled, rubbing Hermione's arm. "I'll see you this week sometime for dinner, right?"

"Of course," Hermione smiled back, a genuine one. So genuine, in fact, that it almost made her want to dance it felt so good. With one last smile flashed in the direction of Mrs. Weasley she jumped into the floo, yelling out her intended location as she did so. The flames surrounded her body and she felt the familiar sensation take over her body.

For all the years that Hermione had used the floo, she still couldn't get the sensation to feel normal. She stumbled out and nearly fell before regaining her balance and taking a deep breath. While moving towards her bedroom, she let out a slight wince from a sudden jolt of pain she felt. All she wanted, even though she had just been sleeping, was to be able to lie down on her bed and take the weight off her side.

"Hey Fred," she sighed as she plopped down onto her bed.

"How'd you know I was here?" he questioned, coming towards the bed and sitting down himself.

"I can _sense_ you," she laughed.

"How's your side?" he asked.

"Can't complain," she shrugged.

"Well, you probably could," he replied.

"That's true, I _could_," she answered. "I was wondering…what defines George being ok enough for you to go?"

"I don't really think it has criteria," he responded. "Are you trying to kick me out?"

"Haven't I always been?" she laughed, turning towards him.

"I think you've learned over the years it's pretty hard to get rid of me," he responded.

"Even more than that I think I've learned it's hard just to _stop_ you from doing something. I learned that within the first week of being a prefect," she informed him.

"Then why did you keep trying?" he asked curiously.

"Besides for the fact that I don't back away from a challenge?" she said, getting a nod in response. "Honestly, the other reason, besides the fact that it was my job, was that you two were so fun to verbally spar with. Ron, bless his heart, wasn't very intelligent when he consistently fought with me. You two were a nice change of pace."

"So there wasn't just a little part of mini Hermione that had a crush on us Weasley twins?" he smirked.

"No, there was not!" she blushed slightly.

"You totally did! Which one of us did you fancy more?"

"I didn't fancy either of you!" she argued back defiantly.

"You fancied me a bit more than George, didn't you?" he smiled.

"I will admit that I agreed with Lavender when she said you two were attractive," she rose her hands in defeat.

"Lavender would have never used the word attractive," he scoffed. "You totally just censored that."

"You're right," she admitted. "Was there a reason you were here in the first place?"

"Not particularly, though I was going to mention that when George gets back he's going to tell you that my mum really wants the immediate family to come over tonight," he explained.

"Which really means there is no if or when about it?"

"Bingo," Fred stated.

"I'm going to miss you when you go, you know," Hermione whispered.

"I know," he nodded slowly.

"I was really worried when you died that you thought I didn't care about you. There's this split second when a person I know dies that I forget that I'll see them again before they move on, and with you I thought that you'd die thinking I was truly hard on you all those years because I didn't care for you when the truth was I only ever did it because I saw your potential and I was naïve enough to think the push in the butt I provided would be helpful," she admitted.

"Don't worry, there was never a moment when I thought that. If anything I just thought you had a crush on us and were just too awkward to know how to show it," he joked.

"Why are you so cocky today?" she gasped, giggling to herself.

"I don't know, some days just bring it out in me I think," he smiled.

"Hermione, you here?" George's voice boomed through the flat as a door shut behind him.

"Yes, just in my bedroom," she answered him, raising her voice louder so he could hear her through the door.

"Ok, I'll come in there," he voiced, his footsteps increasing in volume as she moved closer and closer towards her room.

"Time to go, Fred," she whispered.

"You were just talking about how you were afraid I died thinking you hated me and now you're kicking me out!"

"I love you, now go," she hissed.

"Woman and their bloody mood swings," he sighed, ignoring Hermione's look with a chuckle. Her face was a perfectly crafted mask of annoyance that made Fred wish to laugh even more. The mask was so well crafted, in fact, he knew she was not being entirely truthful with her facial expression and the glimmer in her eyes proved it. Sure, she may have been a little upset, but it was the kind of upset you had when your new puppy chewed though something of yours: you just can't find it in yourself to be all that mad because you still find it endearing.

Even with this knowledge, though, Fred had no desire to stick around in case she got extremely angry or did something else crazy like it seemed she had grown fond of doing as of late. The instant Fred popped out of the room, George entered it with a serious expression tinged with playfulness at the edges of his face. The look seemed to unnerve her in a way and she didn't know if it was because of all the things she knew George knew about her or because of the strange expression he wore.

"Mum wants, more like is making, us come to dinner tonight. You ok with that?" he proposed.

"Yea, why wouldn't I be?" she laughed.

"I was worried that your side might still be an issue," he shrugged.

"More like you were hoping for an excuse to escape a Weasley family dinner that didn't quite seem that appealing to you," she smiled.

"That's a _very _little bit of it," George answered, holding his thumb and pointer finger centimeters apart to emphasize the point he was attempting to make. Hermione continued to smile back at him, her reluctant smile turning to a beam she couldn't push away for the life of her. "Why are you so happy Mrs. Smiley?"

"Just a good day, you know?" she spoke before a thought interrupted her: what if he didn't know? After having your twin, your best friend, and confidant die she couldn't imagine that a person had an abundance of good days. Even this smiling, happy behavior most likely took force and effort to pull off that a lot of days he most likely lacked. Hermione didn't have to worry about him taking any offense to it, however, because the playful banter only continued on.

"Oh, yea, because those days where I have infected wounds that cause me to flip out, have a fever, and hallucinate are always the best," he joked. "They are typically all cuddles and rainbows."

"Thank you Mr. Sarcasm, it's _so_ appreciated," she rolled her eyes.

"So we're going?" he asked.

"Yes," she rolled her eyes again. "We are going because your poor mother rarely gets to see her children."

"She sees us every day," he pointed out. "And I was looking forward to ordering Chinese takeout and eating in_ so very much_."

"Stop whining, we're going. You asked why I'm so smiley, but really I should have asked what's got _you_ in such a giddy mood," Hermione voiced.

"It's just one of those days," he shrugged, a strange smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh, so when I say it it's stupid, but then you say it it's the best thing in the whole wide world?" she exclaimed.

"I have that effect on people," he fluttered his eyelashes at her, very nearly being hit by a pillow he had only just enough time and good reflexes to dodge.

"Are you done?" Hermione asked aggravated.

George had been inside his room looking through his closet (she only suspected such, in all honestly she couldn't hear exactly _what _he was doing). The door had been locked and he wouldn't open it no matter how many times she requested it of him. At this point she had just sat down outside the door, simultaneously hitting it with her foot and yelling at him. Just as Hermione launched her foot towards the door to hit it again, it opened, her foot accidentally coming into contact with George's shin in the process.

"Why do you hate me?" he questioned.

Hermione's face broke out into a grin and she let a laugh escape her mouth before looking back up at him. "Serves you right, you jerk."

"Let's go or we'll be late," he responded with a goofy smile.

"Now he says it," she spoke with fire in her eyes. "You're lucky we're going to _your_ parent's house or you'd be dead right about now," she pushed him towards the fireplace. "You want to tell me the reason we may be late? Or are you just going to ignore me?"

"Ignore you," he nodded, jumping into the flames before she could get her hands on him. Hermione jumped in quickly behind him, jumping out and nearly bringing them both to the floor in the process.

"I thought you would have gotten the hang of it by now," George laughed.

"I thought you would have known when to refrain from messing with me because I was going to kill you by now," she sarcastically responded. "And for Merlin's sake would you fix your hair!"

Hermione pulled his head towards hers and ignored his loud, "OW!" Pulling her fingers through his hair, the room became suddenly quiet. George lifted his head up more, watching as Hermione simply moved onto her tiptoes and continued to work. The way she worked, with a quiet steadiness, made him smile slightly and as she looked up, finished with work, a sudden intimateness came to the moment.

"Done," she whispered as she set her feet back firmly on the ground, not moving her eyes from his.

"Hermione-"

"Is that…" Percy trailed off as he stepped into the room. As soon as he noticed who it was, exactly, he stopped firmly in his tracks.

"I'll just-um- leave you guys to…yea," Hermione rambled, walking away into the kitchen.

Percy looked at George for a moment before letting his eyes roll to the ground and scuffling towards the fireplace. Honestly, it surprised George to see him look like this and act this way. He had grown so accustomed to seeing "Prefect Percy" and then "Workaholic Percy" that seeing him looking uncomfortable was strange.

"Why are you in here?" George broke the silence, Percy's eyes popping up from the floor to his face.

"Pansy is coming and she should be here any minute," he explained.

"That's awesome," George nodded. "I was looking through my closet earlier, you know, just nonchalantly, and I found this…I thought you might want it," George offered.

Percy took it in his hand, looking it over. It was a picture of the Weasley's right before going to school Percy's 7th year so that it included Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, and Percy. They were outside of King's cross, Percy in the middle of George and Fred looking unpleasantly unhappy as they both had their arms wrapped firmly around him. Ginny and Ron stood in the front, beaming at the camera just like the twins. Just at the last minute of the photo, right before the moving photo replayed, a smile stretched across Percy's face and made the photo feel a million times happier, a million times more like a proper family.

"Why?" he looked up from his examination of the photo.

"Percy…I was Fred's best friend, I got a lot of good times and a lot of laughs. Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Bill, Harry, and Charlie…they all got a lot too. So, I know it doesn't mean all that much, I'm sure, but that last laugh and those last moments…they were all yours Perce. Don't even feel bad about having them because Fred would have wanted for you to have them, and if there is anyone who would know…it's me," George explained, speaking it all without pause in fear of not getting it all out.

It seemed that for the first time in his entire life, Percy didn't have a single thing to say and it unnerved George slightly. All the awkward energy that had been in the room disappeared as Percy walked toward George, grabbing him in a hug. "You are the best and most annoying brother of all time," he spoke into George's shoulder.

"Thanks Perce, thank you," he spoke, realizing for the first time in a long time how genuinely nice it was to say something that wasn't insulting to Percy. It had been so long George had begun to forget what it felt like and he wondered if maybe he should have been a little nicer over the years, but the past was the past and there was nothing he could do to change that. All you could do was take it in and learn from it before moving on and going on with life. George had never truly realized how important that information was to him.

The past was in the past, though, and there was no reason to dwell on such information now: all he could do was move forward.

* * *

><p><strong>**CONTEST**<strong>

**Ok, anyone who wants to participate feel free to and enter through the reviews!**

**For the first round, I want everyone to think of the STRANGEST HP relationship you can. It doesn't matter whether you have come across it in fanfiction or not, but think of obscure characters and strange relationships. (Feel free to use inanimate objects, they just have to pertain to the Harry Potter series in some way)**

**I'm not sure how many people will be eliminated in this round because it depends purely on how many people enter something, but this is just the first round and I anticipate I'll have three (unless it is just too hard to choose or there are a LOT of people who enter). ****Prize isn't 100% decided yet, but it will be by the next time I update...(:**

**Good luck and Be creative!**


	20. Chapter of Family Dinner

Hermione entered the kitchen to see a bustling Mrs. Weasley and a multitude of redheads loitering about and chatting. Instantly feeling sorry for Mrs. Weasley, she began her way over to the stove. Not only did she have more mouths to feed as the years went by, but she also got less help and became more determined as the years flew by. Fleur was busy with Victoire and Mrs. Weasley was too proud to ask for help directly and also too proud to accept it.

"Do you need some help?" Hermione offered.

"No, dear, go talk," she stated, putting noodles into a bowl.

"Can I at least bring some things to the table?" Hermione pushed. The two very stubborn women stared at each other, eyes meeting determined eyes, before Mrs. Weasley backed down. She had learned over the years, that not every battle could be won, and that sometimes it was just easier to compromise than fight and lose the energy over it. A small bit of help wouldn't kill her, and she backed away towards the sauce with a slight smile on her face, wondering how she had gotten so lucky with the kids she had been granted with.

"Sure," she yelled over her shoulder, stirring the sauce on the stove. "Everything on that counter is ready to go out."

Hermione responded to Mrs. Weasley's muttered thank you and grabbed as much as her hands could carry. Ever since she was little, Hermione had been one of those people who would much rather take 8 grocery bags than take two trips to get them all, and she blamed it on her mother and her efficient ways. Always the good time-manager, she hated wasting times on multiple trips to get food, even if she knew how silly it truly was. So, as she walked with the food towards the table, she realized how bad of an idea it may have been to take this much food and hoped she didn't drop it, because then Mrs. Weasley would never accept her help ever again.

"Oops, do you need help with that?" a feminine voice questioned, one Hermione knew wasn't Ginny's. She looked up, seeing a lightly made-up Pansy Parkinson with an extended hand.

"Sure, thank. There are more dishes on the counter I could use your help with too," she offered, Pansy nodded gratefully.

She was actually rather pretty, she decided, when she wasn't bogged down with loads of make-up, spitting horrible words, and throwing herself at Draco. Hermione couldn't quite find the anger she had once held at her and everything she had done to them over the years as she looked at her helping her carry dishes. Right there, in that moment, she was being braver than almost anyone she had ever met, she figured. To walk into a house of people that used to be your enemies and offer your hand in both apology and help was a very scary thing to do. No matter how many things Pansy had done over the years, she had to respect her for that.

"Where's Percy?" Hermione asked, fully aware of where he was but trying to make conversation.

"Talking with George in the other room," she answered, setting the last of the dishes down on the kitchen table. "How long have you two been a couple?"

"George and I?" Hermione exclaimed. "We're not."

"Oh," Pansy responded. "I assumed…"

"No, it's no problem, everyone assumes that," Hermione shrugged.

"Maybe they have something to assume," she snorted, shaking her head. Hermione looked at her and could see the old Pansy there, hiding underneath the cracks and peaking out. Suddenly, anger, one that she hadn't felt before, filled her. How could she have assumed she had changed? Right then it looked like she was just hiding underneath the surface, waiting to come out and strike. Hermione Granger knew she had a quick temper, but no matter what technique she attempted she could not calm down her rage.

"Do you even love him, Pansy?" Hermione whispered ferociously, spitting her words out. "Because he isn't Draco. You can't just fling him to the curb when you get bored with him. Percy may be a prat some of the time, but he's a goody guy and he deserves far better than that," she finished.

"Of course I love him, how dare you say that!" she replied. "Hermione…" she calmed herself down with a few well-placed breaths, "I am trying _really_ hard. I know I've been a bitch in the past and I still am sometimes, even when I try not to be, but I love Percy. So much so that I've been disowned from my family because of it. I know it's hard to believe, but I don't want to fight with you," she sighed.

"I know what it's like," she answered, "being disowned from your family, and I just want to say that, though it might take some time, the Weasley's are the best family you could ever want. I've found to see it that way, anyways. In the future, I think you could be apart of it if you wanted to."

"I'd like that," she tried to smile at her. Smiling was something that had never come easily to her and it was still something she was trying to get used to. After years of only smirking or having a cold demeanor and a blank face, smiles seemed something almost unreal. Smiles seemed to be something only seen in books or movies, not part of the real world, but Pansy was starting to accept that smiling could actually be rather nice, and she just had to get used to it. "I'd like to be your friend at some point too."

Hermione was about to respond to the affirmative with a gentle smile when Percy and George barged through the door, laughing with each other. Ginny's voice carried through the door in an excited tone, looking away from Pansy and toward the door. She took a step forward before stopping in her tracks as a male voice trailed behind her, one she knew and brought a smile to her face.

"George," Hermione called, waiting until he turned toward her, "I think there's something you want to say to me?"

George looked at Oliver, who she was nodding at, and noticed that his family members were beginning to look on curiously. "I have no idea what you're talking about, and if I did I'd say that your statement is yet to be confirmed," he replied.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes.

"What in the name of Merlin are you two talking about?" Ron exclaimed from his spot at the table, ready to eat as soon as his mother stated that they could start.

George and Hermione looked at each other quickly and both stated, "Nothing…"

"I think we're about ready to begin," Mrs. Weasley began, walking in with the last few dishes levitating in front of her. Upon seeing Ginny and Oliver, her words stopped and she smiled. "Oliver, dear, what are you doing here?"

"I- uh," he looked over at Ginny.

"He's my date," Ginny cut him off, looking with eyes at everyone that clearly showed she didn't want to have to use her well-reasoned responses if someone were to challenge her.

"That's lovely," Mrs. Weasley smiled largely. "Would you mind getting two extra chairs from the closet for you and Pansy?"

"Sure," Oliver nodded, Ginny following him out of the room to help.

"Now, do you have something you'd like to say, George?" Hermione looked at him, smiling slightly at the fact that the Weasley family was all staring on with amusement.

"I can't think of anything," he shook his head, sitting down at the table closely followed by Hermione.

"You sure? Nothing like 'you win' comes to mind?"

"Can't say it does," he smirked, a snicker coming from Charlie across the table.

"Really? I'm pretty sure you owe me both a secret and a dinner," she answered just as Ginny and Oliver came back into the kitchen with the chairs.

"Why do you owe her?" Ginny sat down on one side of Oliver, George on the other

"They won't seem to say," Harry answered.

"Let's make a game of it then," Mrs. Weasley stated, motioning for everyone to begin eating. "We have to guess, first person to do it correctly wins. You can only ask yes or no questions to George and Hermione."

"That's a lovely idea, honey," Mr. Weasley smiled, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"What do you say George, let them guess it?"

"Fine with me," he shrugged.

"It was clearly a bet," Bill started.

"Why do you say that?' Ron asked, piling up his plate in his stereotypical fashion

"She said he had won," Fleur answered, her thick French accent never having diminished over the years.

"It probably has to do with Ginny or Oliver because they began their talk when they both entered," Pansy spoke up nervously, unsure if she should contribute to the discussion or not. Percy put a reassuring hand on her knee and she smiled up at him, making Hermione wonder if it was the first time she had seen her properly smile.

"Good point," Percy spoke up.

"It's a bet, correct?" Ginny looked at Hermione.

"Yes."

"And does it have to do with Ginny and Oliver?" Charlie questioned.

"Yup," George replied.

"Maybe it had to do with what time they would arrive?" Mr. Weasley optioned up.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean Oliver would be apart of it," Bill pointed out.

"Plus, George and Hermione would never bother wasting their time with a bet on arrival times," Harry said.

"They were betting on whether or not Oliver and I were dating!" Ginny exclaimed, excited for a second before realizing exactly what she said and looking at them curiously.

"How'd you get that?" Oliver asked.

"Something they said to each other the other day," Ginny responded.

"Looks like George and I are the only two single people left here," Hermione claimed.

"What about me?" Charlie queried.

"Don't even pretend like you haven't seen Padma pretty much every night this week," she responded.

"Padma is your girlfriend? You have a girlfriend?" Mrs. Weasley burst out, excitement evident on her face.

"We have only gone out a few times," Charlie argued, a slight blush tingeing his ears.

"You should have brought her with!" she stated.

"It's not that serious yet," he defended.

"Well, when it is she better be sitting right there next to you."

"Of course mom," he rolled his eyes.

Dinner continued without trouble with much joy and laughter, the kind that reminded Hermione of those cheesy movies she used to watch with her dad as a kid. She continued to look over at George every once in a while, making sure that he was ok. She knew it was kind of strange to think something might happen, right in the middle of dinner, but it was natural for her to worry. No matter how silly she told herself it was to worry about nothing, she just couldn't help it when George was involved.

Love was something she felt utterly for George Weasley, even if she couldn't admit it to him. Suddenly, the thought occurred to her that maybe she never would. Why had the thought never occurred to her? Would the truth never come out? Hermione didn't know if she could live with never receiving love back from him, the one she loved.

"You ready to go?" George broke her thoughts. She looked around and noticed everyone was about to leave, putting his or her coat on and aparating away after thanking Mrs. Weasley and saying goodbye. Hermione nodded, following George and looking behind her quickly to see Mrs. Weasley give Pansy a tentative hug.

"Can you give me a piggyback ride?"

"No, you lazy git," he answered.

"I'm not lazy, I'm just tired," she replied, mocking him from what he'd said (what felt like) forever ago. It was strange how far away it felt now.

"Let's go to bed then, plus, you want to go to bed because in the morning I have a secret to tell you," he spoke excitedly with fake enthusiasm.

"Then we shall waste no more time! I feel like Santa's coming or something."

"Santa?" he mocked in reply.

"Never mind," she amended, pulling him into the floo after he and disappearing from the Weasley home with barely any sound at all.

* * *

><p><strong>First of, JackalCringe created some awesome fanart for this fanfiction. Check it out here (without the spaces of course)-http: jackthehighknight. /#/d4oc33y**

**It's really good!**

**Anyways, on to the part everyone has been waiting for (joking), the people who have moved onto the next round are...(drumroll please)... ShadowAngel55, WishingOnAFallenStar17, TheHomerow, DGfleetfox, Peace n Luv, SimplySomething, and JackalCringe. It was so hard to choose though, you guys have some twisted minds! Haha.**

**To move on to the last round, I need you to create a name for one (only one, you don't have to do them all) of the following potions with great creativity:**

**1. the potion that Hermione accidentally used in a previous chapter (either what it was meant to end up as or what it _actually_ did)**

**2. a wizarding version of a diet pill that makes you want to not eat food because it smells revolting**

**3. a potion that makes you see in only 2d and/or black and white**

**I need your entry by next week Sunday, take all the time you need. Get to thinking!**


	21. Chapter of a Revelation

"Where's my secret?" Hermione asked as she entered the kitchen, watching George eat his sugar-filled breakfast cereal with a small amount of both disgust and jealousy.

"Right now?"

"Well, I was hoping right now," she responded, tightening her ponytail as she grabbed an apple.

"Why don't we wait until dinner tonight? If I'm correct it _is_ your choice," he smiled as he dumped the cereal's remains in the sink. "Now are you ready to go work or not?"

"How about or not?"

"You're joking, Granger! Next thing I know you'll be skipping prefect meetings and sneaking out late for the kitchens," he joked.

"Haha," she spoke dryly. "Very funny."

George did seem good, Hermione concluded. That initial thing she'd said, all those weeks ago, about Fred being the only cure for George, maybe it wasn't entirely true. What if, maybe, even though it was just that miniscule amount every day, she was capable of making his day just that little bit better? What if some days it was even more than just a little bit better and she saw a smile that stuck a smile on her face for days at a time? Some days it was the only thing that really made her get out of bed while others she feared the real reason was that it was for her, but either way there was improvement.

It is silly to think he was better, Hermione knew that, but that didn't mean he wasn't improving, that he wasn't on the road to healing. Maybe it was possible that he would never fully heal, and honestly she wouldn't blame him, but that little bit she could help, make him feel better, it was all she could do. She tried her hardest to help him out and in return she enjoyed his company, she enjoyed making him feel better. In the process of making him feel better_ she_ felt better. Because helping him was all she needed to feel a little bit better herself.

"You know, I think today might be kind of a slow day. Could you go work in the back on those labels? I'll call you if I need you," he said.

"'Course," she nodded.

Hermione entered the room cautiously, just in case. There had been a time when she had just started where she'd barged in, but she had learned you had to be cautious. The back room could only be described by one word the best: crazy (well, that was how she saw it and it wouldn't change from that for a matter of years). There were multitudes of color, so many products, and an entire corner labeled "Don't Touch" that she was still afraid to get anywhere near. Her favorite part of being back there, however, was getting to work on labels.

It was a part of the business; honestly, she had never contemplated before working for George. When a person thought of Weasley Wizard Wheezes they rarely contemplated labels because the first thing a person naturally thought of was the pranks, the products, and the chaotic atmosphere of the shop that kids loved to be in. The labels on the bottle? They were funky and original, but it took a very special kind of mind to think of the labels first when being questioned about the crazy shop.

George and Fred had always done them together, the labels that is, and it seemed hard for him to go back to it. Designing something by yourself that you had gotten down to a system designing with two wasn't generally easy. Hermione didn't mind picking up the job in the least, though, and it quickly became her favorite component of work. There was no way that anyone could kid that she was a very good drawer naturally, but her perfectionism always finished the job: often making up for her poor drawing with lovely coloring and hilarious one-liners on the box.

As she sat down to begin work on the label for the same product that had caused her to become a gooey mess while around George the other day, she could suddenly feel Fred's presence, though it seemed he was no where to be seen. Hermione looked around one more time before figuring that he was most likely just in the other room with George. It didn't really matter to her, anyways, she didn't mind the distraction while she was working on a label she really enjoyed so far (despite the small resentment she still had for the product, ok…slightly bigger than small).

Just as she was about to magic off the slight mistake she'd mad, a sudden movement to her left alerted her eyes. Looking up, she saw nothing and attributed it to her eyes playing tricks on her. It was a tribute to how loose and comfortable she had begun to feel in this place that she could feel so sure it was just a little mistake when a few months ago she would be up with her wand out just for precautionary measures. Shaking her head slightly at her own craziness, she bent her head back down into concentration.

Suddenly, as her mind was fully immersed into her work, Fred popped up from behind the desk she was working on. Making noises and flailing his arms in the most obnoxious manner he could, Hermione squealed in fright. Her eyes widened, her hands jumped to her mouth to stop a scream from bubbling from it, and the label she had been working on flew from the table, making a beautiful arc above her head before falling slowly to the ground and resting there.

"Fred! Why the heck did you just do that! You are insane!" Hermione said in a quiet scream, an oxymoron that seemed only Hermione Granger was fully capable of pulling off.

"No, I'm dead," he joked, chuckling heartily in a deep way that Hermione had associated with him ever since the first time they had met. "You stopped getting scared. I had to find some way of amusing myself."

"By nearly scaring me to death?" she exclaimed, standing up and grabbing the paper that had flown to the ground in the chaos of Fred's entry.

"I'm dead, Granger, there isn't much else for me to do around here. I've started to feel like a stalker," he smiled. "Plus, if you get scared to death then you'd be dead and we could hang out _all_ the time!" he raised his arms in a kind of fake-celebration that almost made her want to laugh at how ridiculous he looked.

"Sorry, don't plan on dying anytime soon," she shrugged, "and we all know that I fancy your other brother and not you. Not appreciating such blatant flirting, sir."

"I'm not flirting, I'm teasing," he stated. "I'm just bored, that's all."

"You know, there's a very simple solution to that," she answered, rotating on her stool to see him straight on. "Move. On!"

"Are you really that excited to get rid of me?"

Hermione _wanted_ to say that, no; she actually didn't have any desire at all to get rid of him. If anything, she wished she could have him to talk to forever (if it were ever to exist, she reminded herself), or even better, have him come back to life. It was a strongly known fact that neither of the two were possibilities and she would just have to live with that fact. Having Fred around wasn't healthy for her, and so the sooner she got him to move on, the sooner she would get the chance to try to move on and heal. "Totally."

"Well, then I'll go," he pouted.

"You don't have to," she called, realizing how bipolar she sounded because of how her statements were complete opposites: moving on and staying. "You could hang out with me, if you wanted."

"Oh," he replied. "Thanks for the offer, but Verity entered the shop and I figure you'd want to see her and say hello. See you later, Granger," he spoke.

"Later."

Hermione walked toward the door, excited to see how far Verity was and if she'd decided on things like names or knew gender. Stopped by a raised voice, with her hand on the doorknob, she opened the door only a slight amount, seeing a pregnant Verity and a slightly angry George.

"You were offered the job when it was available and you declined, remember?" He explained, clearly (with both appearance and voice) upset.

"Yes, but you have to understand the position I was in. I needed regular money and you couldn't provide that. I have a baby on the way, but I want my job back now," she told him.

"I'm sorry, really, I am," he moved from behind the counter, grabbing some loose articles left on the counter and disappearing behind the shelves momentarily to put them away. Coming back into view he leaned against the counter with a much calmer face then he had before, "but your spot was filled."

"Then just hire me as another employee! I'm sure you can manage and you'd be able to get out more because you'd have someone else to help with the shop. Isn't that tempting?" she pleaded, scraping her hand through her short blonde hair.

"I can't afford it right now. Money is tight right now with the reopening of the shop. Maybe once I'm a little bit more on my feet," he defended.

"It's so tight you can't even spare me a small spot?" she asked. "Just a few days a week?"

"I need to make sure there's enough for Hermione and I," George responded, filling Hermione up with joy from her spot hidden behind the door. Not only had he really made a caring statement about her, but he had also said 'Hermione and I', a grammar skill she'd explained to him properly several days ago when he'd used it incorrectly. Her stomach filled with both a pride and love for him that both scared _and _excited her.

"When did you two become such a 'we'?" she pushed.

"When she moved in and began working here," he answered seriously.

"Could you honestly tell me that if you didn't have some kind of feelings for Hermione you wouldn't just give _me_ the job?"

"Do I like the girl? Yes, she's great, but that has nothing to do with this. I said we're done, that you won't be receiving your job back; I think it's time for you to go," he stated.

"She's Hermione Granger for God's sake! She could get a job absolutely anywhere! She's famous, there are books being published solely about her, and magazines with _her_ face on the cover. Why does she need this job? Why can't you just explain the situation, I'm sure she'll get it; fire her, in a nice way of course; and give the position back over to me!" she rose her voice slightly, still trying to sound kind but also having gotten upset over the last few minutes.

Verity had always seemed like a very nice girl to Hermione, and they had always gotten on well when they had chatted briefly at special events and parties. Even with all that, right now she was given very good reason from Verity not to like her, despite what she'd thought about her in the past. Today had been a promising day with no drama or messed up potions or infections, and she had to come ruin it by pissing George off, and in turn, her too. She tried not to be angry and just decided to blame it on her hormones from the pregnancy.

"Yes, Hermione Granger could get a job absolutely anywhere she wanted or decided to work, and, trust me, I have spent many a night wondering why exactly she is here and why she hasn't taken another job, but she works _here. _She's the last person I see every night and the first person I generally see in the morning and in between those two events she is almost always the person keeping me sane. I will not fire her: I _refuse._ So, I'm sorry that you have no job, Verity, but you made a decision weeks ago and now you have to live with it. Frankly, she means a great, immensely great, deal more to me than you do, no offense, so I choose her," he finished. "And that's my final answer at this time. Until that changes I'll be saying goodbye."

Verity nodded slightly, turning towards the doorway while saying, "I'm sorry, I understand." She made it all the way to the door of the shop with still no more noise but the sound of her squeaky shoes squealing against the floor as she walked (it actually more resembled a waddle) farther away. With her hand on the door she stopped. She turned one last time and spoke before exiting the shop completely and with no more words. "I just hope she knows how much she means to you."

George stayed standing where he was, not saying anything as the door closed and silence took back over. She left the shop and silence was left for several seconds before he called out, staying completely still. "Don't make me regret what I told her, get back to work."

Hermione smiled as she walked back to her work, not having been fooled by the words he'd just said (she had lived with him quite a while and had grown to be almost as good at identifying things about his voice as Ginny; she could most definitely tell you when he had a grin on his face while he was talking). Not to forget the greatest part of it all:

Whether he had intended for her to hear and understand that part of the conversation or not, she was fully aware of how much he cared for her.

* * *

><p><strong>The contest has been taken down to 4 now, and for the final round it is a little bit of a repeat of my last contest (but I just love this idea too much to not use it again!)<strong>

**Ok, SimplySomething, WishingOnAFallingStar17, TheHomerow, and JackalCringe, you all need to give me your best Harry Potter pickup line.**

**Have fun, be creative, and the winner will come out of this round, so give me the best (:**

**The winner of this contest will get a written story of their chosen fandom/pairing/scenario...etc. a little promotion. Details will be discussed once the winner has chosen. Anyways, good luck!**


	22. Chapter of The Secret

Hermione could count on one hand the amount of times she'd actually went on a date that mattered to her. There was Ron, of course, who she had thought she was going to marry; Viktor, who was a great guy and still a great friend; and Charlie, who she had always had a soft spot for. She was no stranger to a man liking her, it was impossible for the young hero to deny the onset of admirers after the Final Battle, but she could never pretend that she wasn't good with men in general. Suddenly, as she realized that she had begun to consider George and her dinner as a date, nervousness overtook her.

Looking in the mirror, she clipped one last piece of flying hair down to the side of her head. Hermione had figured that it was better to dress up then down and since she knew where they were going (she'd ordered George to make the reservation a few hours previously), she felt her attire was appropriate. The fabric flowed through her hands like water and she had the desire to twirl, just because it was one of those kinds of dresses. With one more look in the mirror (hair, check; dress, check), she exited the room and entered the living room.

Nervousness filled her further as she looked at George in his nice pants and button up shirt, recently showered and smiling at her. The reason behind her worry was a little harder to pinpoint, however. Hermione had hung out with George a multitude of times before, honestly, she'd been with him the last few weeks very much the same way as she had Ron and Harry during their years at Hogwarts. But she didn't think that it really had to do with the fact that she had begun to consider their dinner a date, either.

Maybe it had to do with this feeling she'd had all day, like something was going to happen that she just couldn't control or stop. The feeling had started out small; it was small enough that she just ignored it completely and didn't think anything of it at all. Over the course of the day it had grown and now it furrowed in her belly. Having grown accustomed to it she barely gave it any thought at all.

"You look wonderful, Granger, you ready to go?" he spoke; looking at her with eyes that clearly said that he thought his compliment didn't do her justice.

"Of course," she responded. "By the way, you look dashing yourself, George."

"Why thank you, milady," he bowed to her largely, making her giggle. "Would you do me the honor of escorting me to this lovely restaurant you have so beautifully picked out?" he continued, holding his hand out for her to take.

"How could I ever say no to such a request?" she smiled, grabbing his hand and closing her eyes as he apparated her away.

They arrived quickly and got seated much in the same fashion by a pretty blonde. The grandeur of the place did not go unnoticed by the pair. The lights, little balls of light bobbing in the air akin to bobbers in the water, were dimmed and cast a light glow across the customers. The waiters were all wearing nice white shirts and ironed black pants; there faces were donned with smiles that seemed warm and not forced. The ambiance of the place seemed warm and as they sat down at the table Hermione felt very happy with her choice.

"This looks exciting," George looked around.

"According to Harry the food's amazing," she responded.

"Well, if Harry says it, it must be true," George joked. "I mean he _is_ the boy-who-lived."

"Consequentially meaning that he did not die, which is, you know, pretty good," Hermione continued on their joke with her sarcastic brand of humor.

"Hello," their server stopped their banter. "My name is Melissa and I will be serving you tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Melissa was a pretty blonde girl and a fresh face. Not only attractive, she was also a good waitress, getting them their drinks quickly and making their night move smoothly. George and Hermione ordered soon after sitting down and enjoyed their meals: enjoyed their company even more. With all the talking and laughing they did, the night seemed to fly by, and before they knew it they were exiting the restaurant with their leftovers swinging at their side.

"It's a really nice night," Hermione commented, flinging her hair up in a ponytail as she looked up at the sky. "Very pretty sky, do you mind if we walk for a while?"

"Nah, it's your night," George concluded. "How do you notice things like that?"

"What? The sky?" she asked.

"Yea, I don't even look up that often, I don't think about those things," he shrugged.

"Honestly?" she began. "It was a habit I picked up from my mother. She used to point things out like that all the time: look at the beautiful sky, isn't the grass the prettiest shade of green? When I was younger we used to just sit outside, me on her lap, and we'd just stare at everything around us. It was nice."

"What happened with your parents exactly? If you don't mind me asking," he spoke.

"My mom…my parents, more accurately, they just…they just didn't want to be my parents anymore. They didn't want me," she sighed.

"Sometimes," George spoke, his voice gentle and a brand of serious that Hermione was in no way used to hearing, "when someone is really special people get real jealous of them. They want to be like them but they know they can't ever be, so they don't know how to accept it, and they end up just lashing out at the person instead."

"Thank you, George," she said after a few moments of silence. "So," she spoke up in a peppy tone, uncomfortable with how touching his sentiment had really been to her, "what about that secret?"

"Well it depends on what kind of secret you want," he replied.

"What's the juiciest?" she asked.

"I can't tell you that," he answered. "That would be unfair."

"How is that unfair?" she exclaimed.

"Because then you automatically get the best one!" he replied.

"I see nothing wrong with that."

"Of course you don't see anything wrong with that, you're the one getting the good secret out of it," he laughed. "I'm the one who has to bare my soul here."

"I'm sorry, but I highly doubt you're 'baring your soul' with a secret. What could you possibly have to hide?" Hermione laughed.

"You shouldn't assume things, because do you know what happens then?" he looked at her, a once familiar glint in his eye that she hadn't seen for some time.

"What?" she fueled his fire.

"You make an ass of you and me," he joked.

"Oh, how clever," she spoke in reply, a smile upon her lips and sarcasm dripping from them, "you can break up a word and make it into more words!"

"You're just jealous you don't have my abilities," he puffed up his chest and rose his head high.

"Yes, George, how right you are…" she rolled her eyes. "So how about that secret?"

"It goes back to what you want to hear."

"How about your school days?" she optioned up for him.

"Peeves and I once-" he began.

"Already know," she cut him off.

"I didn't even finish, how do you know that you know it?" he exclaimed. "Because _you_ may have kept it a secret, but I would bet money that Peeves didn't," she smiled. "What else do you have?"

"I think Draco Malfoy may have had a crush on you," he stated, keeping a straight face until Hermione stopped in her tracks and fake-vomited. He burst out laughing and she slowly joined, though with a, still, slightly disgusted look on her face.

"This isn't 'make up disgusting likes to make Hermione vomit time'," she spoke.

"I couldn't resist," he apologized, sitting himself down on a bench that they walked across. Hermione joined him, looking up at the sky and sighing.

The night felt perfect and wonderful, but she couldn't shake that feeling that something wasn't quite right. Hermione felt bogged down, like she couldn't quite enjoy the evening to her full ability.

"Hermione," he turned to her, looking her in the eyes. George's mouth stayed open, his thought hanging in the air never to be finished. Silence surrounded them in a comfortable way and Hermione wanted to jump up and cheer as George moved his face closer to hers. Just as their lips were about to meet, Hermione jumped up from the bench.

"George, I can't do this to you," she exclaimed, flailing her arms around.

"Do what? Kiss me?"

"Yes!" she screamed.

"Wow," he breathed. "I thought that you…liked me, maybe? I mean, you have to have some feelings for me or that potion wouldn't have worked like it did. Everyone thinks you like me and I like you and I thought they were right," he answered.

"George, I want to kiss you and love you and…" she trailed off. "If I can tell you something and you still want to try what we were about to try-"

"Two best friends kissing?"

"-then I'll do it and I'll feel so much better doing it," she spoke.

"Ok, shoot," he spoke.

"I can see dead people," she began.

"You mean like-"

"No, listen," she continued. "I can see dead people: like Moody, Snape, Colin Creevey, Remus…I saw them all until they moved on."

"You mean Fred, too, don't you?" he spoke seriously.

"Yes, I do. When I was younger I died, they even classified me as it, and they thought I was gone and never going to come back," she breathed. "But I did come back, and I started to see things, things I shouldn't see. It started with Cedric and then he moved on and I had begun to convince myself that I had imagined the entire thing…until it happened again. The last few months it has been happening a lot as, I'm sure, you can imagine. Everyone has moved on already except your infuriating brother who refuses to."

"He just stays and scares the living daylights out of me and hopes that you get better," she continued. "He refuses to move on because he loves you too much to yet. So in the mean time I'm stuck with him: knowing that, not only am I able to talk to the one person who truly holds the key to your well-being and happiness, I am also going crazy over the fact that I'm keeping this secret too large for me to hold in and only wanting to tell you. I thought that, I don't know, maybe I could make you feel better, that I could help you heal, but I ended up falling in love with you. I think over time it stopped being purely about helping you and I started doing it because it made me happier to be around you too. I'm- I'm sorry I lied to you," she finished, taking a deep breath and looking back up at George's face.

It was an unreadable mask. His eyes showed no bit of emotion she could pick apart and try to decipher and his face was flat and emotionless. George's body did seem to be rather stiff, Hermione noted with nervousness. He seemed rigid and motionless like he'd just seen something that had just shocked him to the bone but couldn't seem to move away no matter of much he wanted to. She figured (more accurately, hoped) that it came down to the fact that he was just shocked by what he'd heard and had absolutely no idea how to respond.

"Are you serious?" he questioned.

"Yes, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true," she blurted.

"No, no!" he screamed; anger rushed over the blankness his face had been seconds previously. "Are you serious?"

"You're mad," she breathily whispered out, defeat evident in her voice. It clearly showed that deep down she had partially expected this even if she'd hoped with all her heart that it wouldn't be this way.

"Of course I'm mad!" George belted, making Hermione realize that this was the first time she had seen him honestly and ferociously angry. "You're my friend and you come and say something so horrible I can't even… I don't know what I ever did to you to make you say something so _cruel_, but a friend could never do this to someone they cared about the way you made it sound like you cared about me."

"I _am_ your friend George!" she pleaded.

"Then why would you tell such a lie!" he angrily snapped back, breathing heavily in the brief silence that followed his burst.

"I can let certain things slide, George," Hermione said, "but one thing I can not allow is you accusing me of lying right now, because that is one of the most hurtful and honest things I have ever told you," she finished.

"Then I hate to think of how untruthful everything else you said must have been," he spoke, ice in his voice.

Tears stung her eyes: tears of both anger and sadness. For the first time in her life, Hermione partially wished she was a horrible person with no conscious: able to keep her secret inside herself with no guilt eating away at her. She wanted to speak and scream at him, but no matter what words she wanted to say, they just stayed stuck in her throat like peanut butter with no milk to wash it down with.

"You wanted a secret, a good, juicy one?" George spoke the last words of the night. "No one has ever hurt me more than you just did," he spat, his eyes on fire. He walked away in anger, not fully sure of where he was going; he left behind Hermione, still standing there with tears running down her face and no idea where to go.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Contest Winner<span>: SimplySomething. You may have just come up with it on the fly but I loved that you came up with it and that it made me laugh, though everyone's did I have to admit, yours was just so quirky you couldn't _not _love it. They were great...Harry Potter pickup lines are one of my absolute favorite things in the whole world (:**

**(I'll send you a message tomorrow about your prize)**

**This story is going to be ending sooner than I thought (who would have thought?) and there are actually very few chapters left.**

**There is a special surprise at the end of the story for all of you wonderful readers, but I'm feeling very secretive today, and I think I might just have to make it a surprise (:**


	23. Chapter of Places

"He'll forgive you," Ginny spoke; she raised her voice from her place in the kitchen so Hermione could hear her from the couch. She grumbled and sank lower into the couch, blowing the hair off her face and grabbing the bowl right next to her seat.

"No, he won't, Ginny," Hermione argued, her words coming out slightly muffled because of the cookie dough she had just put into her mouth. "You don't know what I told him!"

"Why don't you tell me," she walked in, leaning against the doorframe.

"You wouldn't believe me, just like him," she wallowed, throwing her head against the back of the couch.

"I know I'm not George," Ginny told her, sitting down onto the couch next to her, "but I used to be your best friend."

"You still are! And that's why I can't tell you because I love you so much and if you didn't want to be around me either I wouldn't know what I'd do," Hermione looked at her, wiping a stray tear that had leaked.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny hugged her. "I love you too. And that's why I would believe whatever poppycock that comes out of your mouth."

Hermione believed her; so she spoke. She told her about almost dying; of how it had kind of hurt and how scary it had been once she realized she saw Cedric. All the time she had thought that maybe she was going crazy and finally realizing that it was just something that she wouldn't be able to change. George's reaction, Fred's time here, and what he had all done and told her: she told Ginny it all and didn't hold a single thing back. Looking at Ginny expectantly, she hoped she understood.

"I believe you," she smiled.

"You do?" Hermione gasped, a huge grin breaking across her face.

"Of course, not even you would be able to come up with such a crazy, wacky and elaborate story," she shrugged like it made the most sense to her in the world. Putting her hair up into a high ponytail, she spoke again. "Plus, why would you come over here so upset, basically drowning in cookie dough, if you weren't actually upset and had just made the entire thing up?"

"So what questions do you have then," Hermione asked. "I'm sure you have some."

Ginny pondered it over for a few seconds before speaking. "What was it like having to talk to Snape?"

Hermione burst out laughing and Ginny soon followed. Ginny quickly got up and began imitating what she thought the conversation must have been like. Laughing the entire time, she grabbed a blanket off of her couch and wrapped it around herself, trying to make it flow behind her as she creepily stalked across the living room. "Wow," Ginny imitated in her best attempt at a low voice, speaking slowly and making a darting movement of her head to look at Hermione, "Slytherin just killed someone because of a flawed potion? Must be one billion points from Gryffindor!" Hermione's eyes leaked of tears from her laughter and Ginny attempted to manically laugh before accidentally breaking character and laughing along.

"Man," Ginny flopped on the couch, still laughing, "trying to talk like that for too long really hurts my voice.

"That felt so good," Hermione said once the laughing calmed down, wiping her face clear of the last remnants of her tears. "I can't even tell you the last time I laughed that hard."

"Well," Ginny spoke in a cocky voice that Hermione could tell was fake by the goofy grin on her face, "when you're as amazing as me it can be a constant party because of my wonderful hilarity and pure awesomeness."

Hermione kicked Ginny's back, launching her off of the couch and onto the ground so that she was sprawled out on her back. A new onset of laughter began so that they were yet again gasping for air. This was the position they were in, Ginny on the ground and Hermione on the couch as they both laughed hysterically for a reason they could barely even remember, when Oliver entered the room. He opened the door and opened his mouth as if to call for Ginny before noticing the odd scene and looking towards the both of them.

"What the heck are you two doing?" he questioned, looking at them strangely.

Hermione and Ginny looked towards each other, before turning back toward Oliver and yelling out in unison, "nothing"

"Sure looks like it," he chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked nicely, coming over and giving him a kiss as soon as she had gotten off of the floor.

"Just got off for lunch from a meeting for Puddlemore and thought we could catch lunch," he optioned.

"Of course!" Ginny exclaimed before turning to Hermione. "I mean, Hermione could come of course. You'd like to come, right?" she continued, catching herself.

"Of course, come lass," he nodded at her.

"Naw," she shook her head, "but thanks for the offer. You two go and have a good time. I've eaten too much cookie dough to ever want to eat again anyways."

"Ok, but don't feel like you have to leave anytime soon, you can stay here as long as you want," she smiled.

"Thanks, but I promised I'd go visit Harry soon, so I think I'll go do that," she answered. "Now go!" Ginny and Oliver followed her orders and just as Oliver slipped through the door Hermione said one last thing to Ginny, "He got in with a key, we're totally going to talk about that later."

"Ok," Ginny grinned goofily. "Goodbye Hermione," she turned, looking back quickly as if unsure if she should add the next part or not. "Love you." She escaped the room quickly, locking the door behind her. Hermione looked around at the room, which had held such chaos only moments before, and listened to the silence.

Looking around the room, whispering quietly to herself, she spoke, "Love you too."

Hermione knocked on the door cautiously. It wasn't because she was scared or frightened to be there (she'd been there a million times before), but it had been the first time she'd been there with all the change; the first time since Harry and Ron, the potion, Ginny and Oliver, and the entire debacle with George. Sometimes, when she thought about it further, things like this just didn't make sense to her. How could one place be the exact same after so very much had changed?

"Hermione!" he called, opening the door wide and allowing her entrance.

"Hey Harry," she smiled in return.

"Sorry it is such a mess," he told her, a small smile on his lips he attempted to not let her see. There was a certain amount of mischievousness to his smile that Hermione hadn't seen in a while but knew well. There was something he wasn't telling her and she wanted to know.

"What is it?" she asked curiously.

"What's what?" he replied.

"That smile, Harry James Potter!" she exclaimed, walking towards him. "There's something you're neglecting to tell me and I'd like to know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he insisted.

"I think you do. Do you need me to remind you exactly how good I am at creating those paper birds? What about my fire spells?" she stared him down, trying to raise an eyebrow in an intimidating look.

"What are you doing with your face?" Harry asked.

"I was trying to raise one eyebrow, but I don't think it was working," she resigned, wincing slightly.

"Yea, you looked a little bit like you had just smelled something bad!"

"Stop changing the subject!" she reprimanded, crossing her arms.

"I'm not changing the subject, you were the one who did the weird eyebrow thing. Really, you're the one who 'changed' the subject," Harry objected.

"Remember me mentioning how good I am at fire spells? Yea, that still applies," she threatened with a joking smile.

"Fighting dirty," he shook his head, "didn't know you had it in you."

"I'm a fighter at heart," she responded.

"Ok, I'll tell you, but only because you're you and you can't tell anyone else. Got it?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"Ron is gong to move out and in with me," he smiled.

"Wow," Hermione breathed out. "I'm so happy for you."

She was, honestly, happy for the both of them, but for some reason it felt like their relationship was moving a mile a minute. It really wasn't going that fast, though, was it? When you had known your partner as long as Harry and Ron had known each other, maybe this was going slow. When you knew everything about each other maybe it was hard to try to take it the pace a normal relationship took.

In a matter of speaking (a very loose matter of speaking), they had already been going out for years, hadn't they? All that time together, all that bonding, and all that fact learning. When you knew your best friend as well as a girlfriend should know a boyfriend (or in this case a boyfriend and a boyfriend), maybe the natural step was just to become that role. Hermione didn't know, maybe that was the rule, maybe it was even the exception to the rule (again, how would she know?), but either way this is how she began to think about the accelerated pace of Harry and Ron's relationship.

"You aren't upset?" he queried.

"Upset? Why would I be upset?"

"Because of everything that happened with George," he shrugged, unsure if he should or had to talk any further into the situation.

"I'm just really very happy for you," Hermione spoke honestly, grabbing Harry into a hug and giving him a warm smile. "Not _everything_ is about me."

"Ok, enough about that," he laughed. "How are you?"

"That's what I was going to ask you about. How do I get a Weasley to forgive me?" she asked.

"Shouldn't you know that?' Harry queried surprised.

"The only Weasley I've ever pissed off was Ron, and we have a strange way of dealing with it," she replied. "You know that."

"Ah, you mean the 'forget about it and move on method' that you two use?" he nodded.

"We don't really dwell on our fights for very long anymore," she shrugged.

"Ok, ok," he ushered her over to the chair and sat down. "How big of a blow up was it?"

"Big, humongous, huge," she spoke.

"I get it," he stopped her. "George- it is George, right?"

"Of course it's George," she told him.

"Here's what I know," he answered. "George loves you, you love George…it'll all work out. It won't happen instantly, but it'll work out because I don't know how long you guys will survive without each other."

"You make me sound so dependent on him," she argued.

"All I can say is that I have _barely_ seen you without George in the last few weeks," he smiled at her with a funny look on his face.

"Oh, shut up," she rolled her eyes, hitting his shoulder with hers. "Thanks, though."

"Mmhmm," he nodded. "Do you smell that?" he sniffed more.

"Yes, actually," she, too, continued to sniff. "It smells like…something's burning."

"Oh no," his eyes widened, running into the kitchen.

"What's happening?" she followed him into the kitchen and look on as Harry scraped something that looked black and charred into the trashcan.

"I was trying to cook something. Neither Ron nor I can cook and I figured that if he moves in one of us is going to have to be able to cook something," he stated.

Hermione looked at him for a few seconds before bursting out in laughter. "It's just," she laughed, "you aren't a housewife, Harry." Hermione shook her head and continued with light chuckles as Harry cracked a smile at her.

"What are we going to eat?" he laughed.

"I'll help you," Hermione offered.

"You will?" he asked happily.

This reminded Hermione why exactly she had liked Harry so much those years ago. He was so naturally kind (something she had heard he inherited from his mother), and honestly he had no reason to be. After all this time and all the hardships he had to deal with, Hermione would understand if he had become greedy or selfish, but he had never let it get to him. Even now, after all the friends and family he had gained he still seemed surprised that a person would just want to help him because they could (or in this case because she loved him).

"Of course," she shook her head in disbelief.

'Thank you," he smiled.

"What are friends for?" she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "But we're not going to do it right this moment. Let the room air out a little bit and then we'll get to it."

"What do you want to do in the meantime?" he said.

"Can you take me to the movies?" Hermione proposed. It had felt like forever since she had been to the movies and there'd be no one better to take her than Harry. In all the chaos of the last few years she honestly couldn't remember the last time she had gone to the cinema to see a film: there just hadn't been any time. "I don't really like going to the movies with one of the Weasley's."

"They just don't understand how it works: they ask questions the entire time and you can barely enjoy the movie," Harry voiced.

"I think going with them was the last time I went, actually."

"Me too. When was that?"

"I think somewhere between third and fourth year, because I remember it being right around a small accident I had," she said, reminiscing about how that 'small accident' had effected her life.

"It seems like forever ago, doesn't it?"

"Yea," she nodded. "It does. It'll be like us, just two muggles going on a date or something."

"Don't get any ideas, I am a taken man," he threw his hands up.

"Sorry, you know me, I'm just a harmless flirt who can't stop herself. I'll really try to restrain myself from throwing myself all over you."

"I know it'll be a pretty hard job," he joked along with her.

"Let's go so we can get popcorn before the film starts," Hermione tugged on Harry.

"Ginny warned me about this last night," he shook his head as he followed Hermione to the place their shoes sat.

"What?"

"That you are currently trying to fill up your body of entirely unhealthy, fatty, and/or greasy foods."

"Popcorn isn't that bad for you," she spoke.

"Yea, that artificial butter topping is _so_ healthy," he stared at her pointedly.

"Oh, shut up," she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand in her own. "You ready to go?"

"As soon as you are," he nodded.

And with a quick squeeze of her hand that spoke volumes even though no words were spoken at all, they apparated away with one last quick look at a place that had stayed the exact same even though nothing else had. Hermione hoped there'd always be places like that in her life. Some place that felt normal even when nothing at all was; a place that felt a little bit like home, or maybe a lot more than a little bit, even though what you considered your family had slipped through your fingers.


	24. Chapter of Finalizations

Standing on the curbside of Weasley Wizard Wheezes was, honestly, a sort of surreal feeling. For the last week Hermione had been away from what she had begun to consider her home and was surprised with how many things she was capable of without all her possessions and her job. Having been without her clothes this entire time and surviving off of Ginny's sweatpants and loosest jeans (which still didn't fit her very well. Hermione wasn't by any means fat, but she _was _curvy, which made it hard for her to fit into Ginny's clothes since she was more of a 'ruler' type), she figured it was about time that she went to retrieve some of her stuff.

Hermione was surprised with the fact that she was doing so well without being with George for an entire week. After having spent so much time with him she had begun to think that maybe she couldn't live without him as easily as she had thought and hoped she would be capable of. She was doing fine, and it renewed that worth in herself that she hadn't even realized she had lost in the battle. Sure, she missed George like crazy (and would much rather prefer that he would come to his senses and welcome her back into his life), but if she had to face this road ahead she would do it: with cleverness and clarity like she always had before in the past.

"Hey Granger," a familiar voice came from her right, making her turn and smile.

"Hi Fred, it feels like forever," she stated.

"I saw you, like, three days ago. I think you're more dependent on me than you like to believe," Fred smirked, coming beside her and staring at the open sign of the shop like Hermione currently was.

"That's what I'm afraid of," she mumbled.

"Don't get so serious," he said, "you'll be so happy to get me off your back you'll be doing cartwheels around this place."

"You know I won't be," she smiled sadly at him.

"I was thinking about it, you know moving on and all it entails. How exactly does that work?" he nonchalantly shrugged.

"I don't know exactly, it isn't an exact science," she told him, looking toward his attentive face. "For some people the door is there right away, they go through without ay conflict or nonsense, others say something that triggers that door into appearance, and some," she looked pointedly, "it has to do with a little bit of their selves; they have to decide for themselves that they are in fact ready, because not everyone is."

"Do you think it is about my time, Granger?" he looked sadly at the storefront, reaching out a hand to touch the front before retracting it quickly after remembering he wouldn't be able to touch the labor of his love ever again.

"I've felt it coming for weeks," she whispered to herself. "I was just hoping it wouldn't have to happen."

"You are a great person, Granger," he answered. "I'm sorry I never mentioned it before."

"You mentioned it now, that's all that matters," she shrugged. "You are a rather brilliant wizard despite what I used to yell at you in my fits of anger."

"Thank you, Hermione. I'm so glad my brother found you," he smiled slightly, no joke or smirk hiding behind it; it was the purest smile Hermione had ever seen from him. It seemed so strange to her that for as often as she had seen the twins smile, this was the time where the smile seemed the most true. All those smiles had been laced with pranks and tricks, inside jokes, but this smile held none of those. And for that reason it made her want to smile all that much more in return.

"He's the important one: you think I saved him, but I think he saved me. I just hope he can forgive me at some point," she nodded at him.

"Oh, don't worry about that," he shook his head and hand at her. "He loves you too much."

"Let's hope," she laughed pitifully. "I should probably go in now, Fred. I'll see you upstairs, though, right?"

"Of course, you can't get rid of me that easily, my dear swot," he smiled back. It felt like that game they had played so many times before but this time the game was a huge cheat they were trying to trick themselves into. They were going through the motions because they wanted to believe that they always could, even when the truth was so far from that.

"You go in," Fred spoke. "I want to stay out here and then check the shop out. I'll see you once I'm done."

"Ok, don't try to scare me!" she smiled.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Fred whispered with a small smirk on his face as Hermione waved behind herself. "Wait," he called, "one more thing." Fred ran to her side and whispered into her ear, telling her the things he didn't want to forget to do before stepping away and tiredly lifting his hand. "Bye Granger."

"Goodbye Fred."

Hermione walked into the shop, the weight of their conversation on her shoulders. She knew what it meant in her own mind, what she hoped wasn't true. Seeing Verity behind the counter with a big smile and very pregnant, it didn't hurt her feelings the way she thought it might. On the contrary, it actually felt quite right that Verity was back in that position like she once was: the place where she belonged.

"Hello Verity," she smiled, walking up to the counter. "How are you doing?"

Verity looked up, surprised by her kindness, and smiled at Hermione. "Very pregnant, as I am sure you can tell. I'm the happiest I have ever been," she shrugged.

"I'm very glad to hear that," she nodded at her with smiling eyes.

"Hermione," Verity began, "it has come across my attention that maybe you heard some of the things I was saying to George the other day and I had no reason to act like that and I have no excuse. I was being ridiculously immature and I sincerely apologize."

"Thank you for the apology," she acknowledged.

"Well, George informed me that you like apologies with good vocabulary ad proper grammar," she laughed. "I tried my best!"

"That I do," Hermione replied. "Speaking of George…how has he been?"

"Brooding in the backroom mostly," she whispered over the counter. "Though I think he is upstairs now. Ginny came to try to talk him out of this behavior and to forgive you or whatever, but he sent her away when she wouldn't stop."

"Ok," Hermione nodded. "I have to get upstairs so I guess it's better to get the confrontation over with sooner rather than later."

"Probably. I have to get back to work," Verity informed her. "I'll see you later, maybe."

"Maybe," she nodded before walking towards the stairs. It reminded Hermione of a time not that long ago when she'd been in this same position: walking up these steps with her determined stride and worrying mind with a problem that seemed so stupid now. That time he had forgiven her, but she had a feeling that she couldn't be as lucky this time.

Opening the door without knocking (it _had_ been her flat and some habits were just to hard to forget), she walked in without a single look around. She had no desire to know if their pictures together still resided on the mantle or if her tea mug still sat next to the kitchen sink. Not looking to either side she continued onto her bedroom, hoping to not meet George right then if she didn't have to.

It seemed fate had a twisted sense of humor considering just at that moment George stepped out of the bathroom, colliding into Hermione. She looked at him (wet hair and shirtless, he must have just taken a shower) nervously and with a certain degree of awkwardness. He didn't seem to know what was going on exactly until he saw Hermione and his face seemed to turn a shade darker.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm- uh-" she stuttered nervously. "I'm here to get my stuff, well, some of it anyways. I'm going to go…do that," she stumbled away while noticing in her peripheral vision that he was putting a shirt on.

Hermione grabbed a bag quickly, shoving clothes she knew she actually wore often into her bag. All the other stuff (her nicer clothes, her lamp, and the pictures) she left where they were. Getting everything out didn't feel as easy as she had thought it would. The idea of it all had sounded so good in her head: get clothes, confront George…but now she wondered how it had ever seemed like a good idea at all. She was clearly not ready for this and she didn't have any idea as to how she had tricked herself into believing she was.

"That's all you are taking?" George bit out as she exited her room.

"Uh- yea. I just needed some things…when I decide where I'm going I'll come and get the rest," she explained.

"Where _are_ you going?" he asked, anger and hurt still evident in his voice, but also some curiosity was mixed in as well.

"Ginny offered for me to come live with her, but I don't want to get in her space. Oliver has a key, so I know in a few months time they might want to live with each other and I don't want to ruin that for them. I have a little money so I'm going to try to find a place to live somewhere in Diagon Alley or maybe London…I'm looking around and seeing what I find. I talked to someone at Johnson Publishing, they are the ones who publish a lot of school texts and most wizard literature, and they might give me an editing position. It's something I'm good at and someday I hope to be able to publish something of my own, you know, maybe a collection of useful spells or the truth of some of the war heroes," she shrugged, smiling.

"Well, that's, that's great," he nodded.

"What about you? Trying to get a room mate?" she questioned.

"Hermione, I can't play this game with you," he broke out, walking away from her and pacing back and forth.

"George, I know you are upset," she began.

"Upset?" he cut in. "Upset is when you accidentally broke a gift or told my mom something I didn't want you to. You…what you did was horrifying," he yelled.

"What I did, George? Really? You're the one who told me I was lying when I trusted you with my biggest secret," she yelled, her entire body shaking with anger.

"How can you stand there and say those things you know hurt me so much?" he belted back.

"Why don't you believe me?"

George snorted, crossing his arms and shaking his head as he looked away. Hermione stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking from his body language. He was angry, that was obvious, but what else did he feel? Betrayal? Sadness? She couldn't really tell and felt the need to figure it out. All of a sudden, as she stared at his cold face, she burst out into laughter. His eyes snapped to hers and could instantly see question inside of them.

"You do believe me," she answered. "You believe me but you're too afraid to admit it because you're too afraid to admit it to yourself. It is so clear to me now: you are so upset because you're so scared of it."

"I'm not scared," he said in rebuttal.

"Yes," she nodded, "you really are. I have something to tell you. Fred told me," she began.

"I don't want to hear it," he yelled. "It isn't real."

"You can honestly believe what you want," she proclaimed, "but either way I know you are at the very least curious as to what I have to say. Even if you never want to talk to me again you at the very least owe me that much," she pleaded. Looking at him, he reluctantly nodded and she began to talk.

"When you and Fred were younger you decided you wanted to sneak out and go swimming at night as some kind of little secret. So you waited until everyone was asleep and you snuck down the stairs and outside, making sure that your mom didn't hear you. But the night was cold and so was the water, it was hard to see or enjoy what you were doing and on the way back you slipped and skidded your knee. This night you thought was going to be so wonderful and great ended up being a complete disaster."

"Just as you two were about to enter the Burrow again Fred got a glimpse of your face and saw how upset you were. He felt so bad because it _had_ been his idea in the first place, but there was nothing to be done…nothing to fix this situation you two had idealized so much. Over the years it began to become the inside joke you thought it would be from the beginning. You'd have a good laugh about it and make jokes about which one of you two was the most upset."

"When you would have a really bad day you would remind each other about it: the day wouldn't seem so bad after a little while. Fred told me that _that's_ how you are supposed to treat his death. Because right now it feels like it hurts to breathe and move and _live_, but it won't always. Moving on isn't forgetting, George," she shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "You're smart and strong enough to know and achieve that."

"I've never told anyone that before," he stated shocked.

"I know," she whispered.

"How could you possibly know that?" he asked.

"I think if you think about it you'll find you already know the answer," she smiled at him.

Hermione stood there confidently, her body riveting with hope and exploding with energy. Would George accept what she just said or would he play it off again like he had before? There's no way he could this time, though, she decided, because she'd told him something only he and Fred had known. Just as she was about to ask him if he believed her, she backed to the wall muttering a small, "No."

"Hermione, are you ok?" George asked, worried.

"I have to- oh god," she closed her eyes and breathed heavily, "I have to go." Hermione apparated away as George reached out for her.

"Hermione?" Ginny questioned, walking into the living room to see her sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. "What's wrong, are you ok?" she rushed towards her.

"Ginny, I can't feel him anymore. He's gone," she cried.

"Who's gone?"

"Fred, he moved on. I knew he was going to do it, I could tell by the way he was talking and the questions he asked, but I never thought it would be so empty. I knew it would hurt, I knew it, but I didn't think it would hurt so much," she cried.

"Oh, Hermione," she hugged her. "You'll be ok, it gets better, I swear."

"I knew it was coming and it wasn't like I hadn't already mourned his death, but it's different when you still get to see him every day and talk with him. I just…for someone I had a problem with a lot in life I never considered how much I'd miss him."

"That's because you loved him in your own special way. We all did, Hermione," Ginny rubbed her back comfortingly. The door was hit with several loud and speedy knocks and Hermione looked up as Ginny answered the door.

"Is Hermione here?" George asked the instant the door was open.

"Don't worry, she'd right here and fine," Ginny opened the door. "She just had a little bit of a panic attack."

"You scared the shit out of me," he rushed over to her. Seeing her face he queried, "Are you ok?"

"Yea," she wiped her face. "I just, he's gone George. He moved on."

"Did he- did he say anything else? Before he moved on that was?" George said with hope in his voice.

"He said he was very proud, of _all_ of you," she looked over at Ginny too. "To live after all of the things that went on…he said that was far harder than anything he would have to do."

George grabbed her hand and Hermione could see Ginny wipe a tear away from her eye. Looking up, she noticed George looking up at her and he said, "Do you want to come home? We can set your room all back up, if you want."

"No sorry?" she joked through her tears.

"I have a feeling the sorry I would be able to give you right here wouldn't nearly be enough."

"Ok," she responded as she stood up with the help of the hand that had been holding onto hers, "That's good enough for now. We have time for you to make it up."

"Ok," he nodded. "I can work with that. Home?"

"Home," she agreed. "I want to go home."

* * *

><p><strong>I know this is like the eighteenth chapter I have ended with something about home, but it has (somehow along the way) became the unofficial message of this story or something.<strong>

**Sorry this didn't get posted yesterday, fanfiction was being a jerk and for some reason made me repeatedly log in every time I clicked something. This time it wasn't my fault!**


	25. Epilogue

Hermione took one last look at herself in the mirror before nodding at herself and walking out into the hallway. This would be the first time they had all gone together to Fred's grave in several months and the first time Hermione could ever motivate herself to go since Fred had moved on. Even after all the time she had lived with it, she still had no desire to take that final step to go see his grave (she saw no _real_ point, knowing full well that there really was no true connection to Fred still there), but she did it for the same reason she helped out with a label every now and then even though she didn't even work at the shop anymore: she did it for George.

"George, you ready to go? If we don't get going we'll be late and your mother will blow a gasket and then continue to shove food down our throats," she yelled from her place on the couch.

"Coming, Granger," he ran into the living room, his shirt wrongly buttoned and his collar lopsided.

"Let me fix that," she rolled her eyes. Standing up, she made her way over to George and re-buttoned his shirt before fixing the collar. Not bothering to move, she asked a quick, "Ready?" before aparating them to the Burrow.

"Hermione! George! You two were almost late!" Mrs. Weasley called, motioning for them both to follow her. "Everyone's already at the plot."

"They're smart," Hermione covertly whispered to George, "why didn't we just apparate to the plot?"

"You're the one who apparated us!" he returned as they continued to walk, having just finished the hill. "Here, you're wearing heels, do you want a piggyback ride?"

"Really?" she exclaimed.

"Of course not, do I look like a horse to you?" he smiled as she slapped him on the arm and let out a twinkling laugh.

"You jerk!" she giggled, the small Weasley graveyard coming into sight.

"Oh, we are almost there, even in heels you can make it," he bumped his shoulder with hers.

Walking closer to the family surrounded around the single grave, silence took over the two. Certain things just felt right, and to have that small moment of silence between the two felt like the perfect thing to do on such an occasion. In the last few months, George and Hermione had become the best friends they were before their blowout and now they felt like they were even more their old selves: George joking around and Hermione smiling all the time. Things weren't perfect, they knew that, but they were better than they had been in a long time, and that was good enough.

"Hello George and Hermione," Ginny smiled, "I thought you guys had forgotten or something, but it turns out you're just late."

"No, we _aren't_ late," George defended.

"You guys are really all just early," Hermione finished for him, flashing a smile at the group.

"Fleur's having some morning sickness," Bill said. "We're going to go back to the Burrow so she can sit down."

"It isn't even morning," Ron mumbled. As soon as Fleur's icy eyes met his, he instantly shut up and apologized; the whole thing happening as Harry laughed to himself.

"Actually, Padma is going to be here any minute, I'll walk back with you two," Charlie smiled, following behind them.

Hermione looked around at the remaining people at the grave. Harry and Ron were standing behind Molly and Arthur who were kneeling next to the headstone. Ginny stood several feet away, holding onto Oliver's hand and looking on in a sort of dazed state, and Percy stood to the other side of Ginny, covertly wiping away a tear.

"Miss you, mate," Harry whispered, grabbing a rose from the pile that sat on a small table next to the gravestone. Setting down the rose, he stood up and touched the gravestone before walking back to Ron.

Ginny and Oliver walked toward the pile, grabbing the roses generally as if they might break at the simplest touch, and walking to the gravestone. Kneeling down, Ginny took her hand and traced the letters of Fred's name, making a graceful loop as she twirled the end of the 'y'. Oliver stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulder in a comforting way that everyone could see clearly helped.

"You and George were such great beaters, despite how often you tried to get shirty with me," he stated, the soft rumbling of his Scottish accent visibly calming Ginny further. "I don't think I've ever met a better one yet."

"It's not quite the same without you," Ginny whispered. "Give 'em hell up there for us," she joked. "See if you can out-prank those marauders."

Ron followed up behind as Ginny and Oliver got back up and stood beside Harry, talking quietly. With the rose in his hand it appeared as if he didn't know quite what to say. Never in his life had Ron been all that good at knowing what to say and why would that change now? Effort was evident as Ron stood there, trying to put feelings into words for this gravestone that was meant to be apart of his brother. His mouth gaped open and closed as he tried to find the words. "It's nothing you don't know," he muttered, setting the rose down gently.

"Pansy will be arriving very soon," Percy stated aloud, looking at his watch worriedly. He walked quickly to the roses, grasping one and putting it on the pile. "I'm glad it was with me," he whispered, so quietly that only his mother could hear. "I'm so glad you got to smile with me, because I don't think I could have lived with myself knowing you died while thinking I didn't want to be apart of this family."

As Mrs. Weasley got teary-eyed at hearing his words, he began walking away from the gravestone. Ginny, Oliver, Harry, and Ron followed after him, talking pleasantly amongst themselves as if they hadn't just seen each other bare their souls to a gravestone.

"I will always love you," Mrs. Weasley cried slightly. "Always and forever."

Mr. Weasley wrapped his arms around her and made her stand up, handing her the rose she placed on the grave. Putting both her hands on the gravestone, Mr. Weasley gave a nod at the grave that said it all with no need to speak. Just as Mrs. Weasley was going to say one more thing, a loud boom came from the Burrow and a firework exploded, causing everyone's eyes to snap to it.

"What the…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off, in a style that was atypical of her.

"Let's go check it out dear and see what's happening," Mr. Weasley took her hand and led her down the hill.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Hermione turned towards George and let a smile rip across her face, "You did that, didn't you?"

"It felt right, like Fred would do it. Had to put a little bit of mischievousness into the day, you know?"

"100%," she nodded.

"Next time," George commented as he pulled a rose up off the table, "we should do this things at Weasley Wizard Wheezes: it has more of him there than here."

"Completely and utterly agree," she smiled. She went and picked up the lone rose, the table disappearing in a dramatic poof as she did so. "Dear Fred," she began.

"It was pretty unfunny and stupid of you to die," George stated. "You have caused a lot of people to be very upset."

"Not to forget incredibly angry," she whispered along. "It isn't the same without you."

"There's no one to plan with or fly with. Sometimes talking isn't as fun when you don't have someone else who knows what you're thinking," he smiled sadly at the grave.

"No one tires to force weird nicknames on me or scare the shit out of me anymore, which I strangely miss," she spoke.

"On a serious note, though," George began.

"Which is an entirely new thought for him. _Entirely,"_ Hermione stressed, a sad, joking smile playing across her lips.

"We miss you," he continued, wringing his hands together around the rose. "We would wish you back in a heartbeat if it would help. Sometimes I think that death took the wrong twin by mistake. You were the important one, I was just another set of hands," he finished. Hermione looked on, so genuinely surprised by his words: how could he possibly think such a thing? No more question went into it, however, as she reached out for his hand. Grabbing onto it gently, she rested her hand on his shoulder and let her eyes flutter close for a few, brief seconds.

How would it have ended or all turned out if George had been the one to die? Hermione wondered if she would have to help Fred out, but wouldn't Angelina be there? If Fred never died she wouldn't have run to Lee, would she? Maybe Hermione, for some reason (most likely George's persuading), would end up helping out at the shop. Or trying to help him move on the way she'd attempted to help George. She had a feeling there was no way Hermione could live with herself if she didn't at least tell Fred what George wanted him to hear.

One thing she was completely and fully sure on (with her entire heart), was that there was no chance that she couldn't have created the feelings for George she had. The way she felt about him, this true, irrevocable love couldn't have never happened. The way she felt about George was one of the few constants in her life at that time, one of the things she was most sure about: how could she never feel that? Hermione imagined how much more sad that goodbye would have been. There was a part of her that didn't know if she could make it out of that departure fixable. It would have been more tragic than any tragedy she had read before.

"Everyday we wish you were here with us," she smiled. "Everyday we realize that you can't be and it hurts, but we're healing. Every day it hurts a little bit less…and that makes us love you that much more."

"We hope you're doing great wherever you are," George stated.

"Love, George and Hermione," she smiled, finally setting the rose down. "Hermione?" George questioned curiously, waiting for her to turn towards him before continuing. "Did you love Fred?"

"Of course I love him, I mean- oh-" she stopped. "No, George, not like that, don't you know that I love…" she trailed off. Hermione turned back towards Fred's grave and began talking. "P.S. So, Fred, I forgot to tell you about this guy, who, funnily enough, looks a lot like you. He's great, really, I have only met one person who didn't secretly love him and she doesn't count because she wears a horrifying amount of pink. Off topic, sorry, so this guy is amazing and I am completely in love with him and I thought he knew that, but apparently not because he just asked me if I'm in love with you. Honestly, it is such a shame because if I had known that he thought this all this time I would have corrected him and we could have been snoggi-"

George came up behind her, turning her around and cutting her off with his lips. Suddenly there were kissing and it was better than she could have ever even imagined. His hands moved form her face to her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck and they were kissing in the perfect mixture of passion and heat and sweetness. Hermione could feel his mouth break into a smile and she couldn't help but smile in return.

"George," she cut away from his with heavy breath. His only reaction at all was a nod before going back in and kissing her again. "George," she broke away giggling, "I need to talk…and breath."

"Ok, ok, sorry. I got carried away," he smiled at her.

"No complaining on that front," she smiled before the realization of exactly what she had said took over her and a blush broke out across her face. "Don't you think it is a little morbid to snog on your brother's grave?"

"Yea," he nodded, slightly shocked at what he had been doing. "We should probably get back to the burrow, yea?"

"Yes," she nodded, grabbing his hand and giving his lips one more, quick kiss. "We definitely should."

"So, do you think anyone bet on _our_ relationship?" George questioned, beginning their walk back to the Burrow as he swung their hands in a playful manner.

"Very likely," Hermione laughed. "Ginny probably did it just because she thinks that it makes it even then. Though I doubt anyone would bet against us being a couple, they probably wagered upon how long it would take."

"Who do you think won?" he queried.

"It's whom, and yes, Charlie," she answered immediately, not even faltering for a second. "He is the only one who knows how stubborn both of us are."

"And how does he know how stubborn you are, exactly?" he rose his eyebrow. "Have you two been going on secret dates that I am unaware of?"

"No," she rolled her eyes at him in an over-exaggerated manner. "I have just spent a lot of time helping him make everything work with Padma."

"And do you think it'll work?"

"Do I think what will work?" she replied.

"Their relationship," he explained.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "That's something I just can't know."

It was true, she realized, she _didn't_ know. She didn't know if Padma and Charlie were going to be together or if Mrs. Weasley would ever stop badgering people about dating. There were certain things that were completely out of her control and she had no say about it: that was just the way it was. Hermione didn't know everything (no matter how many times people cracked a joke about how she did), and she didn't _know_ if her and George would last forever. But she had hope.

For the first time she realized that it could feel good to hope. It didn't show that you were weak or make you afraid, though every once in a while she would be frightened by how _ok_ she felt, it could make you feel alive as well. Hoping that her and George worked out made her happy. She thought of the future of possibilities and it made her smile.

Hermione preferred to live a little bit more in the moment these days, however, she didn't just hope and think…she let herself live because what Fred had said was right: dying was easy, but living, living wasn't. You struggled and fought and hoped when sometimes you didn't even know why but it was a life, it was her life, she was _alive._ And she was so much more alive than she had ever been before.

With life, with George, with her new sense of herself, life was so much more _ok_ and _all right _than it had ever been before. There wasn't "danger" or this constant need to come up with an answer as Ron and Harry looked at her with fear and need and a sense of adventure, but she was perfectly happy with that. She hadn't seen a dead person in months and she didn't know if that meant she never would again or she was just lucky for a little while, but either way, she didn't really care.

Hermione had learned that 'the after', after all those crazy and hectic years which some people would think would be impossible to give up, well, the living after "the after" was the greatest adventure of all.

And she wouldn't give it up for anything.

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><p><strong>That's the end, thoughts are appreciated!<strong>

**Check out the next two chapters for that surprise I was telling you about...Deleted Scenes!**


	26. Deleted Scenes PRT1

**These were all taken out of the story Flatline, 2 of them I just didn't have a spot for and one just didn't fit anywhere well enough to keep in. I still wrote them, though, so I thought it would be a shame not to share them with you (:**

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><p><strong>VISITING MR. DIGGORY<strong>

"Ms. Granger!" a nurse turned, smiling at her. "Boy, am I glad to see you?"

"Hello Marigold," she smiled in return, walking to the desk of the fourth level of St. Mungo's with an ease that could only be attributed to comfortableness with the building. "What's up?"  
>"Let's just say it has been a long day with him today. The only thing keeping me sane was knowing that you were coming today. It kept him calm for a while, but he had a panic attack today and started yelling," she sighed. "He may just be the death of me."<p>

"It's ok, I'm here, and hopefully that'll cheer him up. Where is he right now?" she questioned.

"In his room, I'll have a nurse come in there to help out," she told her.

"No, that's all right, I'll be fine," she patted her arm assuredly.

Hermione walked the familiar path with ease, looking around the rooms at all the people doing their daily activities. This level happened to be Hermione's least favorite because of the amount of people that just weren't themselves. The other levels had chaos and yelling and things that had to be done _now_. On the other hand, this level seemed to be occupied by people who lived there because of irreversible tragedies. It was generally quiet, and the saddest part was seeing all those people who had once been _so_ _much__more_, now left to quiet loneliness.

"Mr. Diggory? Amos?" Hermione called, walking into the room after a quiet knock on the door. After no response she walked further in, seeing him laying on his bed in silence. "Hello Mr. Diggory."

He continued to stare at the ceiling in silence from his position. Unsettled but ultimately used to such behavior, Hermione moved to his bedside table: placing flowers into the vase that was occupied by some that she had brought the last time she was here. "I brought you some more flowers, this time I thought I'd bring sunflowers, just for something different. I know they probably won't last that long, but I thought it might bring a bit of sunshine…" she trailed off.

Mr. Diggory turned his head slowly towards her, a fog leaving his eyes as recognition took over. "Hermione?"

"Yup, how have you been?" she smiled, sitting next to his bed.

"You are such a nice girl," he responded, smiling as he sat up in his bed. "You come to visit me every month on the day."

She shrugged and gave another smile. "It's the least I can do."

"Is Cedric coming soon? You come far more often than he does, I miss him," he sighed.

"I talked to him the other day, I'm sure he'll be coming in soon," she stated, nodding her head. At first it had been strange to lie to him this way: telling him things that were so false, but the doctors told him it would make Mr. Diggory too unstable to break his false realty, that is, if they would ever be capable of it. According to the doctors he had done it as a coping mechanism, but he had done it stronger than most, making it impenetrable. Eventually, after so many failed attempts, they stated that they might as well allow him to stay in this state (either way he would spend the rest of his life in here, whether it was with depression or his mental instability). At least this way he wasn't trying to kill himself.

"You know, Cho is a lovely girl, but I wish you and Cedric would get together," he whispered to her.

"We are just friends, Mr. Diggory," she laughed.

"That's how it all starts," he pointed at her. "That's how I met Cedric's mom," he trailed off, the glassy look coming over his eyes' again. He shook the look out of his eyes and jumped out of the bed, a panic and fear taking its place. "Where am I? What am I doing here? What have you done with my family?" he screamed.

"Mr. Diggory, you're fine," Hermione said, tears evident on both her face and by the sound of her voice. "You'll be fine."

"Get away from me!" he yelled, this time loud enough to alert the nurses. He thrashed around as Hermione tried to calm him unsuccessfully, the nurses running into the room and restraining him.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Granger, I didn't know he would be like this today…" Marigold trailed off.

"It's ok," Hermione stated, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just- sometimes it hurts to see him like this, so…_broken."_

"Sometimes, I know I'm not supposed to because I'm a nurse and all," she chewed her gum, ushering Hermione out of the room where Mr. Diggory's yells were still echoing out of, "I get so _pissed_ at him. We are all broken, what gives him the right to take the easy way out? I know it's horrible, sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Hermione shrugged. "You're human."

"You really are a saint, you know, for coming to see him after all this time. You and Neville Longbottom are the only two people in here that often. You know…after all this time of knowing you I have never asked it: why?"

"Why what?" Hermione replied, wiping the last few tears off of her face.

"Why do you come? You aren't related to him; you don't even really owe him anything; and despite my original theory, you weren't in love with Cedric and trying to make it up to him or something like that. I haven't ever been able to figure it out…" she trailed off, looking at her unexpectedly.

"I like to believe everyone has someone, that's all," she shrugged. "Everyone deserves someone to care about them."

"Not that I don't know it myself from personal experience, but those magazines are right when they say you are unreasonably kind. Will you be in again soon, or will I have to wait until next month to see you?"

"You'll have to wait until next month, I'm afraid," she answered. "A person can only live with seeing so much pain."

"So true," she nodded. "I question my job placement every day."

* * *

><p><strong>MEETING SNAPE<strong>

"Professor!" Hermione yelled. She sighed in an exasperated manner when he seemed to be turned the other direction. "Professor!"

Snape turned around, taking a quick look at her before furrowing his brow. "Oh lord, I'm in hell," he stated.

"You are such a jackass!" she gasped, first at how rude he was and then after the realization of what she had said took her over. Her hands flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened as she looked at Snape expectantly.

"I really must be. There is no way the real goody-two shoes Gryffindor would say jackass," his sonorous voice seemed to echo around him in the room.

"You're not in hell and I'm really me," she crossed her arms, "and I don't appreciate the way you insinuated that you believe me to be in your hell."

"There's Granger," he smirked in a way that made Hermione want to smile for a second before he spoke again. "Annoying and sounds like she swallowed a dictionary: just like always."

"Well it doesn't look like you changed must at all either," she smiled in a sickly sweet way that was clearly unhappy.

"I'm dead, I didn't really expect it to change me," he replied. "Now where the hell am I and how do I make it so I'm _not_ here?"

"You're in the 'in-between' and it depends. Some people need to say something or do something, for some it just takes a little while to appear. I doubt your door will be that long," she shrugged, sitting down on a tabletop.

"Why would you assume that?"

"Easy," she scoffed. "You have absolutely _no_ reason to want to stay here. Your door has to be here in a matter of minutes."

"It appears as if you have developed a bit of an attitude," he rose one of his eyebrows.

"No, it's just that you're dead and there's no way for you to kill me," she stated completely monotonous, clearly in a joking tone. She broke her straight face and smiled, laughing to herself lightly. It seems that her statement about death not changing Snape at all was true: he didn't appear any different. Same scowl and sweeping, frightening presence: both the things were things she hated about him but also figured she might, at some point in her future, find, strangely, that she missed.

"This 'door' is awfully inconvenient."

"You're dead," she laughed, "where are you so eager to get?"

"Away from you," he snapped.

"I guess I should have expected that one," she laughed again. "You know, being mean to me won't change how I feel about you."

"And how is that, Ms. Granger?"

"You're a very daring and valiant man, Professor," she shrugged.

"Suck-up."

"I figured you'd say that. I meant what I said, but that doesn't mean I don't think you are ridiculously arrogant as well, not to forget rude, inconsiderate, awful…"

"I think I understand," he cut her off.

"But the fact that you were bad and you changed your ways, all in the name of love…secretly taking care of a boy who looked exactly like your worst enemy: it is wonderfully brave," she replied.

"I see you haven't lost your Gryffindor ways," he sneered.

"I don't see it as much of a bad thing," she shrugged again. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did, for someone so intelligent you don't need to be so disgustingly timid," he spat.

"You called me intelligent," she beamed.

"That's what you got from it?"

"I have selective hearing," she sarcastically replied. "I was going to ask…how do you do it?"

"Use your words, how do I do what?"

"With the potions, the whole 'Half-Blood Prince' potion book. You changed all the recipes and they all worked out perfectly. How could you possibly know how to do it properly? I've tried to figure it out and it has been bothering me since I have known it was your book," she questioned curiously.

"It is something you could never understand, Ms. Granger," he answered. "Simply because it is not, despite a person's best efforts, something that can ever be picked up in a book. It isn't fact learning or simply following a recipe; it's a skill that comes naturally. You're a book learner, Ms. Granger, and therefore you could never understand having a natural affinity for it, being able to see how a potion will work out in your mind alone and not even have to do more than several trial and errors to perfect it. It isn't a fact, it's a way."

"Why would you ever want to be a DADA teacher when you were _so good_ at Potions?"

"Despite what you may have been lied to about by teachers in the past, I do not, nor will I ever, really care about what you think," he snapped.

"Fine," she responded, crossing her arms. "I guess I'm surprised you even talked this much."

"Lily used to be my partner," he forced out between his teeth. "Now would you stop being so nosy?"

"Ah, bad memories," she replied. "That's really a shame."

"And, I can't believe I'm even still talking to you or asking this, why is that?"

"You really could have been an excellent teacher if you weren't a truly horrible one most of the time," she shrugged. "Oh, it looks like your door has appeared, though I don't know what triggered it. I've usually gotten pretty good at figuring it out."

"Hopefully I don't see you for a long time," he nodded at her.

"Either you are telling me to live a long time or that you really just don't want to have to see me for a very long time because of how much you dislike me. As much as I would like to believe it's the first one, I have a feeling it's the latter," she yelled at his back as he walked towards the door. It was a dark wood, shiny and all one, dark shade that blended into each other like some kind of optical allusion that made it look like it was moving.

For the first, and the last (she presumed), time, Hermione heard Snape indulge in a laugh. Granted it was small, but it was something. It wasn't a pleasant sound at all, having sounded much like a hybrid between a scoff and a wheeze, but she figured that when you weren't accustomed to such a thing it was just meant to sound like that. Maybe after not having laughed, well, possibly _ever_, you forget a skill that should be the easiest thing in the world.

And then he was gone.


	27. Deleted Scenes PRT2

**TEACHING HERMIONE TO FLY**

"I'm not going to be able to do it," she exasperatedly sighed, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg in a way George had grown to know meant she was displeased.

"Yes you can! Haven't you bloody learned you're Hermione Granger? You can do whatever you put your mind to," he threw his hands up.

"Stop using your charming Weasley wiles against me," she pouted, this time in attempts to hide the grin that was bursting through.

"Ha, you think I'm charming," he smirked in her direction.

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she glared at him, her arms still crossed in an intimidating manner. "Why are you so intent on teaching me to fly anyhow? It wasn't something I was born to do like you Weasley's and Harry."

"Hermione," he said, "please? The only thing more depressing than flying alone is owning multiple cats."

Hermione knew for a fact that George's statement wasn't incredibly accurate. Many of the people she knew _loved_ flying by themselves. She knew for a fact that Harry used to wake up early and go out flying alone so that he could go to his 'happy place' all by himself to think and be generally undisturbed. Ginny also loved to fly alone, but it was for the general purpose of getting away from everyone (more accurately, Mrs. Weasley and her tendency to have to know every single detail in her life). What George really meant was nothing was more depressing than flying alone after consistently flying with someone else, more importantly, with _Fred_.

George hadn't flown since Fred's death and the task of it seemed daunting. He had seemed to get it into his head somehow that he might not be capable of it; that it might not hold the glamour and allure that it used to once he was up in the air. Flying had been a major part of George's life and he didn't know if he could handle it if it became horrible. Like everything else he had to do in his life, flying was something he had to get used to doing without Fred, and the task seemed too large to handle, that is, by himself. Hermione sighed and knew that she couldn't let him go through this alone.

"Ok, what's the first step?" she sighed.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Ok, hold the broom in your right hand," he instructed.

"Check," she replied, moving the broom to her right hand that he had just given her.

"Swing your leg over the broom and get in a comfortable position towards the middle of the broom that isn't too far forward or back: we don't want you slipping off," he told her.

"Oh! I feel so good about this!" she answered sarcastically, nervousness beginning to fill her.

"Have you never ridden a broom before?" he asked suddenly.

"I thought you knew the answer and that was why we were having this lesson," she voiced.

"I just thought you were rubbish at it," he explained, "I didn't know that you hadn't ever _done_ it. Harry or Krum never took you out on their broom for a ride?"

"Harry did once when we were younger but we got like 10 feet off the ground and then I panicked, and you've seen Viktor fly a broom; there was absolutely no way I was letting him fly me around, no matter how good of a seeker he was. He was also suicidal and crazy when on a broom."

"Ok, I have to adjust my teaching strategy then. If you don't know how great flying is then I can't teach you to do something, you have to want to do it," he argued. "Move back so I can get on."

"You're flying me around?" she queried, not moving at all as she looked at him.

"Yes, do you have a problem with that?" he raised his eyebrow.

"You aren't trying to kill me, are you?"

"Why in the world would I be trying to kill you?" he exclaimed.

"Why would I know?" she whispered to him conspiratorially. "_You're_ the criminal mastermind behind my murder."

"Would you shut up and just move already? We'll be one hundred before we finish with the lesson."

"I'm not letting you go in front of me, I'll fall off the end and die!"

"Why are you so sure that I'm plotting your death? Just move up then and I'll go behind you."

"I'll fall off the front then," she grumbled.

"You have to pick one eventually," he pointed out.

"Fine," she mumbled, moving up so that he could go behind her (after deciding that it was most likely the lesser of two evils).

"Are you ready?" he whispered into her ear.

Finding herself suddenly a little lightheaded she just nodded, tightening her grip on the broom handle. For a girl who was so used to adventure and danger it seemed rather funny that she wasn't capable of a 'simple' thing like flying. It was the same thing as Ron's strange dislike (petrification) of spiders or the way Harry winces every time a fire gets to close to his skin: they all have their weak spots; the things a person wants to change about themselves but can't. Hermione's just happened to be a broom and the heights it could take her to.

Hermione tried to clear her mind and try to find some kind of enjoyment in the ride. Opening her eyes (she hadn't even really realized she had closed them until she thought about it), she noticed how far off the ground they had gotten while she was thinking about her fear of brooms. Maybe it was the breathtaking sight in front of her or how comfortable she felt with George behind her, but for some reason this broom ride was better than other she had experienced in her life (which were, admittedly, few). For some reason she had a feeling that this one would be hard to top.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be," she sighed contentedly, turning her head so she could look at him. Their faces were centimeters apart and she unconsciously looked at his lips and wondered (for the briefest of seconds), what it would be like to belong to George and be able to kiss them whenever she wanted. She shook her head and dislodged those thoughts: she wasn't Lavender; she didn't daydream about attractive men all day long.

Suddenly Hermione realized that, not only had she just thought about being George's girlfriend and kissing him whenever she felt like it, she also thought of him as attractive…all in the span of several seconds. What was she becoming? Who was she turning into? She sighed and moved so that she was facing forward as to avoid any more speculation pertaining to George, his lips, and his attractiveness.

"I told you, just make sure you don't look down," he responded.

"Why did you say that!" she screeched. "Now all I want to do is look down!"

George laughed and tightened her arms that were holding onto the broom in front of her so that she was more secure. "You're fine, trust me."

And for reasons she didn't delve into and dissect like a spell that she wanted _so_ desperately to learn, she found she did.

And Hermione smiled because of it.

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><p><strong>Now that's EVERYTHING. If you are into LavenderRon I did just post a oneshot for SimplySomething, titled Fighting, Surviving, Living. Check it out if you're interested (: **


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